Time and Reason
by SLynn
Summary: Pepper is determined to get Clint to open up on their trip to LA. As usual, things do not go as planned. Follow-up to Distance. Part #6 of the Recruitment series.
1. Part I

**Title: Time and Reason**  
**Author:** SLynn  
**Rating:** T (language, violence, see warnings)  
**Fandom:** Avengers (movieverse)  
**Characters:** Clint, Pepper and company, Clint/Natasha and Tony/Pepper

**Spoilers:** Takes place after the movie.

**Warnings:** Dark Thoughts/Allusions to Child Abuse, Sexual Abuse and Suicide/Torture

**Summary: **Pepper is determined to get Clint to open up on their trip to LA. As usual, things do not go as planned. Follow-up to Distance. Part #6 of the Recruitment series.

**Notes:** I don't usually add so many warnings, but while I'm never really explicit in the things referenced, this is fairly dark with mature themes. There are dropped hints at physical and sexual abuse, as well as suicidal thoughts. There is also violence and torture and if any of that makes you uncomfortable, this is probably not the fic for you.

This is a middle piece to what has become a large series and so if it doesn't feel resolved, rest assured, I'm getting there. And hopefully not screwing up canon too much in the process.

Last bit, I swear... I wrote this as one long piece and had originally meant to break it up into about fourteen chapters, but I ended up not liking where it split so instead it is three very long parts that I will be posting daily. I think that it worked out rather well, especially given I start vacation on Friday and will be off the Internet for at least a week. So, happy pre-Thanksgiving!

Enjoy.

* * *

_"Time heals what reason cannot." - __**Seneca**_

_**Part I**_

"You keep looking out the window like you're expecting the wing to fall off."

"Sorry," Clint said, tearing his eyes away and giving Pepper a tight-lipped smile. "I'm not all that used to being in one of these."

"Well, it's not as big as the Quinjet," Pepper admitted as she scanned the small private jet, one of a few that Tony owned, that was currently taking them to Los Angeles.

"It's not the size," he returned, casting his eyes around the cabin as he spoke. "Although, it's not helping. It's more the fact that I don't know the pilot. And, usually when I fly, it's for a mission. I hadn't realized how much having that kept me from thinking about..."

"I didn't realize you were afraid of flying," Pepper countered. They were the only two present, but as soon as she'd said it she realized that it was probably not the right thing to say.

"I'm not," he returned emphatically. "I've never had any problems with heights or... Maybe it's just nerves. I'm nervous. This whole trip... I still can't believe Tony pulled it off. I keep waiting for something to happen. For a call to be made."

Clint had reluctantly agreed to go on this trip, and at first had only agreed in order to get Pepper to back down. He didn't need people worrying about him and he certainly didn't want them worrying about him. But, after a few hours of thinking it through, followed up by Tony approaching him with the hard sell, he realized it was a good idea. Clint did need to get away. Not just from Natasha, but from everyone. Things in the Tower were getting tense and he knew that he was partially to blame.

"I'm sorry it's really not going to be more fun," Pepper added.

"Don't worry about that," Clint said, meaning it.

"I need to spend a few days in the office, to catch up and show you around," Pepper said as she sorted her paperwork. "But feel free to hang out at the house or do... well, whatever you want. You don't have to spend all your time with me."

Clint nodded and kept his mouth shut. He'd guessed Pepper didn't have all the details on what his job with Stark Industries would be, but he thought by now Tony would have at least filled her in some. Maybe that was the point. Pepper had pointedly refused a bodyguard for years, according to Tony; maybe he never was going to tell her that that was part of Clint's new responsibilities and that, besides a chance to get away as she'd intended for him, it was a trial run for how they'd work together.

"Oh, and I know Tony didn't let you fly us out here and probably expressly forbid you from touching his cars..." she said, trailing off but managing to make her point.

Except...

"Yeah, Pepper... I didn't fly us here because I don't technically have a pilot's license."

"You don't?"

"I do not," he repeated. "Don't have a driver's license either and I'm definitely not insured. SHIELD just trained me. As long as I passed their tests, there wasn't a problem. They weren't too concerned about me being street legal. Harder to track that way."

Pepper's face screwed up in a frown for a moment before she pulled out a fresh notepad and began to jot down notes.

"What about ID?" she asked, her eyes darting up at him as she spoke. "Social security number? Birth certificate? Weapons permit? Anything?"

"I've got plenty of ID," he said with a smile. "None of its mine, but I have enough. And I'm sure I have a social security number, but I have no idea what it is. Same goes with the birth certificate." Clint paused. "Are you writing this down?" Pepper nodded and motioned for him to continue. "No, Pepper. Don't. Don't... okay, first rule... none of the Avenger stuff should be in writing."

"If it's not in writing how am I supposed to remember that you're going to need a mountain of exemptions? This right here is like three or four months worth of waiting and filing forms, and that's with throwing around some influence and calling in favors. I'm going to need to hire a full time assistant just to take care of these things."

"No. You never put things down unless you absolutely have to," Clint argued. "It's dangerous. It's how people get caught. You can't leave a trail. There can be no traces left behind."

"I understand what you're saying," Pepper sighed, "but people leave traces. No matter how hard you try, there's always something and... Okay, I know this is going to be a transition for all of us. We're going to have to change some of what we do, but so are you. You're not going to be with SHIELD anymore. You're going to be a private citizen. People leave traces, Clint."

It was fleeting, very fleeting, but for a split second Pepper saw clear panic on Clint's face. Even after he'd mastered it, he couldn't find any words.

"How about we do this later?" Pepper said, ripping the sheet free and pushing it through the nearby shredder. "We can all sit down and discuss it back at the Tower. I'm pretty sure you aren't going to be the only one with these kinds of hang-ups."

Before he could help himself, Clint leaned over and double checked the shredder, just to be certain everything had gone through.

"Can I see that?" he asked, motioning for the notepad. Perplexed, Pepper complied. "Impressions," he continued, ripping off the top three sheets as he spoke and running them through the shredder, "when you write, you make them. Always take at least the three underneath. Five if the information was vital."

"What..." Pepper started to say, shaking her head and at a loss. There was no way she could see that anyone could get anything useful off of what she'd just written.

"You'd be surprised," Clint said, answering the unasked. "No one ever leaves their master plan lying around, because that's stupid. But what they do leave is the little bits and pieces, the unimportant information that gets tossed in the trash and then comes back to bite you. Not by itself, but added up. And it always adds up."

"This isn't going to be an easy adjustment for you, is it?"

"Pepper," he said, sounding sad even though he had a smile on his face, "if I could wake up normal tomorrow, I would."

"I didn't mean to say..."

"That I'm a paranoid mess?" he finished for her. "You don't have to. I know it. That's one of the reasons I want out. I mean, I guess at this point I'm always going to be a paranoid mess but... but this is it. This is my last crack at normal. Or, you know... as close to it as I'm going to get."

After that they settled into an easy silence. It wasn't easy at first, but it grew comfortable the more time passed. It wasn't long before the pilot was announcing their decent and they had landed safely at a private airport in southern California. They then exited the plane, after Pepper thanked the pilot, and made their way down the gangplank towards an already waiting car, as a bemused man looked on.

"Welcome home, Ms. Potts. How was the flight?"

"Long," she said with a smile, reaching up and hugging the man, who then effortlessly took her bag before opening the side door to hand her in. "It's good to see you."

"You, too," he answered, pausing as he did. "And...you," he said, uncertainly as he faced Clint. "You, who I know from that thing, and who I completely remember."

"No, you don't," Pepper laughed. "You've never met."

"We haven't?" the chauffer asked with a frown as he scrutinized Clint once again.

"No," Pepper confirmed. "Happy Hogan, this is Clint Barton. Tony asked that Clint come out and give us some ideas on how to improve security."

"Really?" Happy said as he shook his hand. "Which company do you work for? One of those consulting groups or..."

"SHIELD," Clint answered with a short nod.

They'd decided in advance how much they'd tell everyone, and had gone as far as telling Director Fury exactly that much; Clint was going to take a look at Stark Industries security. He'd easily seen the value in it and had not readily agreed, but was at least on board with the idea.

SHIELD seemed to be all the answer Happy needed. He gave Clint another look, put the bags in the back and then got behind the wheel without another word.

It wasn't until they were on the highway that Happy spoke up again.

"But you're not wearing a tie," he said, meeting Clint's eyes in the rearview mirror.

"I'm not that kind of agent," Clint answered.

"Oh," Happy said, getting it. "So, do you know -"

"Happy," Pepper interrupted quickly, fearing where this conversation could go. Happy only knew two SHIELD agents, Phil and Natasha. Pepper didn't think bringing either of them up at the moment was a good idea. "Did Jim call?"

"He did," Happy answered. "He wants to get together for dinner tonight. I took the liberty of saying yes on your behalf."

"Thank you," Pepper returned. "Tonight is perfect. Clint, I think you'll like Rhodey. Tony's been trying to get him out to New York to meet everyone but the timing has been awful."

"Oh," Happy said, sounding disappointed. "I thought... So, is.. are you going along on all of Pepper's appointments?"

"Most," Clint answered.

"And you're going to stay where exactly?" Happy asked, growing slightly uncomfortable. "Do I need to drop you off at a hotel or at some secret hideout? What's going on?" he finished, hoping to sound like he was joking, but not quite getting there.

"No, there's plenty of room at the house," Pepper said, already pouring over her notebook and only half paying attention; missing the inflection in Happy's voice that indicated his wariness at this proposal.

But Clint caught it, and it would have been funny, but he really didn't want Happy, or anyone else for that matter, thinking he was trying to start something up with Pepper behind Tony's back. Which he really, really was not doing.

He liked Pepper. She was warm and kind and unlike any other woman in his life, past or present, which wasn't to say she was dull or uninteresting. Pepper and her ability to stay normal amid the absolute chaos that surrounded her daily was an endless source of fascination and admiration to Clint. She was strong and persuasive and whole in ways he didn't realize people could be, given that everyone he knew had been broken and rebuilt a thousand times over in a thousand different ways. Pepper was a complete person, without apology or exception, and Clint envied that, but ultimately couldn't relate it back to himself. It's why he liked her, might even one day love her as friend, but never more.

And while he did appreciate Pepper's deflection of certain peoples' names, Clint found he was going to have to bring it up on his own anyhow.

"So," Clint said, looking casually out the window before catching Happy's attention again, "I'm not on the west coast much. How's the pizza?"

"The pizza?" Happy asked, clearly confused. "It's okay. Some good, some bad. Although, there was this one place... Hold up, I do know you. You. You worked at that place... I forget the name. A few years ago. Pep, you know the place. It opened up nearby and we started ordering from them for awhile and then they..."

"Suddenly went under," Clint provided with a smile.

"What?" Pepper asked, looking up as she caught up on the conversation.

"Yes," Happy said. "You were the delivery guy. You came by the house a few times. Holy crap."

"I also answered the phones. Another agent was behind the counter. We actually only delivered to Tony's place. Got the pizza from another shop around the corner."

"You're kidding," Pepper said disbelievingly.

"Nope," Clint laughed. "It was just preliminary. SHIELD wanted to keep a closer eye on Tony but weren't quite ready to commit to a full time agent. That was about..." he paused, pretending to mull it over, "six months before Nat went in."

"Oh, so you do know Natalie," Happy said.

"I do," Clint said, holding eye contact with the other man just long enough to get his point across, which was all he'd wanted. "But her name is Natasha; Agent Natasha Romanoff. She really doesn't like anyone calling her by anything less."

"Except for you, right?" Happy asked, still smiling.

"I'm special."

Happy grinned, evidently more at ease with the idea of a man he didn't know staying over with Pepper, now that he thought that man was involved with a woman like Natasha. A woman who, not only would rip out Clint's throat for thinking about cheating on him, but who trusted him enough to head out for a weekend with someone else. Which was, again, all Clint wanted him to think. It didn't matter if it wasn't true.

However, it did have the unfortunate side effect of confusing Pepper, but she held her tongue.

Once at the house Happy brought in the bags and proceeded to the kitchen. Pepper lingered for a moment in the entry with Clint.

"Mind if I check things out?" he asked, eyes already shifting about the room.

"Make yourself at home," she said with a smile, before watching him leave and then joining Happy in the other room.

"Who is that guy?" Happy asked, nearly whispering, as soon as she arrived.

"I told you," Pepper answered, setting down her notebook and getting herself a water bottle from the refrigerator. "He's with SHIELD."

"Well, there's with SHIELD and then there is with SHIELD," Happy said, stressing his point with inflection. "Was he in New York when everything happened?"

"Right there," she sighed. "On the ground with... Happy, I really can't..."

"Sorry," he said sincerely, seeing that the trauma of the whole situation was still almost too much to talk about. "I just want to make sure you trust this guy and he's not just here because someone else wants him to be."

"Tony did ask him to come," she said, hoping to set Happy more at ease. "I asked him to come. And, Clint would probably tell me I shouldn't... but I do trust him. I do."

"That's all I needed to hear."

Pepper smiled and, as they waited for Clint to rejoin them, they discussed the upcoming schedule for the week. Pepper had two important meetings with clients and one presentation to make, scattered throughout the week, and had squeezed in a few dinners out with friends and a few other things.

"House okay?" she asked with a smile as Clint pushed open the kitchen door.

"I see the remodel went well," he answered with a brisk nod.

"Everything is more or less... back," she agreed.

Clint nodded sharply and Pepper could tell that something was bothering him. It would have to wait. She had a lot to do, she had to get situated and dialed back into the west coast operation. Her assistant was supposed to meet her in a few hours and she needed to be ready.

"Well, make yourself at home," Pepper said, repeating her early sentiment with a smile. "If there's something you want that isn't already in the fridge, just type it in there," she said, indicating the LED on the door. "Actually, that goes for anything you need. If you need a ride, Happy can take you anywhere you want to go. Otherwise, take whichever room you like and I will be in the office if you need me."

"Thanks," Clint said his eyes still shifting about the room.

Finding himself alone with Happy, and not wanting to make small talk, Clint excused himself in order to settle in and unpack. It was a very thin excuse, he had packed light, but he didn't want to lapse back into a conversation about Natasha.

Having picked out a room, the least ostentatious one he could find, Clint put away his things and had a seat on the bed.

That's when the full realization of the situation hit him.

Clint had nothing to do.

He was use to down time. He was use to waiting for a mission, on a mission, for a shot, for other people to be organized and ready, but this was different. This was just waiting for nothing.

Dissatisfied with that idea, Clint got up and decided to take another tour of the house. It was massive and quite frankly beautiful. Everything in it was perfect and polished and pristine, and it was hard to feel like he fit in to this environment given that he'd spent his entire life being none of those things.

It wasn't that he didn't see why Tony would want to live there, it was just not how he was use to living. It was the exact opposite of how he was use to living. Stark Tower had all the same look and feel, was just as immaculately designed; it just had a different energy. That probably had a lot to do with the fact that Tony had insisted that they pick out their own things for their own spaces; here, everything was Tony. And Clint liked Tony, against every instinct he had, Clint really did like Tony, but this was kind of insane.

Clint would never be comfortable here.

Unable to find a library, and having left his bow behind, against his will and something vague about Federal regulations, the only thing left to do was try to get in some exercise or else take a nap. He supposed he could have sought out Pepper or Happy, but he didn't want to bother either of them; they had actual jobs to perform. There was also the television, but that had always been a last resort for Clint. So between sleeping and running he ended up choosing to run. As much as he loved a good nap, he tried not to during the day unless he was on assignment. It was too much of a good thing.

"There you are," Happy called out, finding Clint on the treadmill about an hour into his routine. "Delivery guy just dropped this off," he said, holding up a package.

Clint stopped the machine and hopped down, toweling off along the way.

"Thanks," he mumbled as he took the box from the other man and turned it over a few times before finally just ripping it open.

"What the heck?" Happy asked, having stuck around out of curiosity, as he got a look at the contents. Clint laughed and shook his head. "Is that some kind of inside joke?" Happy pressed.

Clint picked up the accompanying note, which confirmed his suspicions about the sender, before taking out what had to be the smallest working bow and arrow set he'd ever seen. It had to be just under half a foot tall and was amazingly detailed.

"I think Tony is building this," Clint answered, handing the note off to Happy. "It says it's a prototype."

"Well, I hope the real thing is bigger," Happy replied as he skimmed over the words on the page.

Clint laughed but was soon struck by an idea.

If he knew anything about Tony, he was pretty certain that this bow didn't need to be any bigger.

Two hours later, as Pepper had reluctantly called it a day and sent home her assistant, she was hoping to find Clint relaxing in one part of the house or another but he wasn't in his room or by the pool or in the lounge. She was just starting to think he'd asked Happy to drive him somewhere, which considering Happy had also disappeared seemed very reasonable, when she heard a laugh. And then another. And then both men laughing... somewhere.

"Guys?" Pepper called out.

"We're in the dining room, Pepper," Happy answered.

Pepper pushed open the dining room door and stopped.

"What's going on here?" she asked, one part curious, the other part amused.

"Pepper, have you seen this guy shoot?" Happy asked, looking more than a little impressed. "It's completely insane."

"We were just..." Clint started to say, stopping because the next word out of his mouth was going to be 'playing' and he'd long since outgrown that kind of behavior. Or should have. Sort of.

"Where did you get that?" Pepper asked, pointing at the miniature bow and arrow set. "No, wait... I know the answer to that one. Tony sent it. But... he sent a whole target range, too?"

"That we had to improvise," Clint answered, still a little embarrassed.

"I hit that one," Happy pointed out. "It took twenty-three shots, but I hit that one. By myself. Give it a try."

Pepper's eyes glanced over the assortment of boxes and tiny targets they'd set up on the far side of the table. It was rather detailed, complete with cardboard buildings populated with tiny paper people, and she was beginning to wonder if this trip might be too much free time for Clint to handle.

"Oh, I don't know..."

"Here," Clint said, handing the tiny weapon off to her. "It's not hard. The tension is all wrong, but it still works."

"Um," Pepper hemmed, and Clint understood her hesitation.

"Let me show you," he said, taking it back.

Clint wasn't afraid to look a little silly, which he knew he must, but he wasn't lying. The little bow worked almost exactly like he imagined the full scale model would eventually, and he was able to fire it with his usual accuracy. There were a couple of things he'd like to ask Tony to modify, but so far he loved it.

Pepper watched and laughed when he'd done it and then gamely gave it a try herself.

Her attempt did not go so well, but she did manage to send the arrow at least partially down the table. They each took turns, with Clint helpfully pointing out ways they could improve their aim, and before long the doorbell rang.

"That's Jim," Pepper said warmly as she exited the room, excited to see her friend again.

Happy followed immediately after, leaving Clint to hang back a second more and reluctantly put the bow down. If it had been collapsible, he would have taken it with him in heartbeat.

Clint made it to the front room just as Pepper had finished greeting Lt Col James Rhodes. Clint didn't know him personally, but like everyone else in and around the Avenger Initiative, he had read his file so he felt like he did. Of course people were often different in person than they were on paper; that was a lesson he'd been continuously learning and relearning since joining SHIELD, but he had the feeling that would not apply to Jim Rhodes.

"Jim," Pepper said, smiling as she saw Clint enter the room, "this is Clint Barton. Clint, this is Jim Rhodes."

"Rhodey is just fine," the other man said, shaking his hand with a warm smile. "Nice to finally meet you. Tony's been talking my ear off about everyone at that Tower of his."

"Well, I hope you only believe half of it."

"With Tony that's all you can believe," Rhodey replied with a laugh.

Rhodey had come prepared, with dinner, and the four of them sat down to a comfortable meal in the front room. Clint offered to dismantle the make-shift range, but Pepper wouldn't allow it. Pepper and Rhodey did most of the talking, which wasn't surprising since they had the most catching up to do. Happy interjected here and there with a story of his own, but for his part Clint was satisfied to listen. Every so often the conversation would shift to something he had an interest in but he assumed that was more out of politeness than any real interest.

"Excuse me, gentlemen," Pepper said, getting to her feet and picking up a few spare plates. "As excellent as this meal was I think we need something sweet."

"There's carrot cake in the fridge," Happy said, starting to stand.

"Perfect," Pepper said, waving for him to stay as she moved out of the room. "I'll just be a second."

It was an awkward wait for the first few minutes.

"I'm going to give Pepper a hand," Happy said, more or less escaping the scene and creating more awkwardness in his wake.

"Tony told you everything, didn't he?" Clint asked quietly after another long pause.

"I'm that easy to read?"

"No, Tony's just that predictable," Clint returned and Rhodey laughed, shaking his head. "I guess I should just be happy he didn't issue a press release."

"Tony's a big believer in transparency," Rhodey said, hoping that explained it well enough. It should. "Plus, he's excited."

"About having me onboard or about stealing a SHIELD agent?"

"Don't be offended, but I think it's that second one."

Clint wasn't offended. He even laughed. After that, after the open secret was out there, the tension in the room lessened.

"Also," Rhodey continued, dragging the word out, "I think Tony thought I needed an explanation since... well, since he essentially offered you my job."

The surprise must have clearly shown on Clint's face, because the other man laughed.

"He's giving me your job?" Clint asked once he had straightened it all out in his head. "Tony never said he had someone else lined up for this or I'd..."

"Don't worry about it," Rhodey stressed, hoping to sound sincere. "It's an eventually for me. I'm not retiring yet. I'm still pretty happy where I'm at. And, when the time comes, I think Tony's new plan will be me on the west coast and you on the east. So, don't get any crazy ideas about turning him down. He doesn't take no very well... or really, at all. Besides, as I understand it, you could use a change of profession."

"That's true," Clint admitted.

"How does that even work?" the other man asked him. "How do you leave SHIELD? I'll admit, I don't know a lot about the organization, but I was under the impression it was a lifelong gig."

"I don't know," he said. "There have been agents who've gone rogue. Agents who've turned. Men who've died..." Clint added quieter, "but, as far as I know no one's just up and left SHIELD on their own. I really don't know what they'll do to me."

"Don't know or don't care?"

Clint shrugged and took another drink from his glass, not wanting to admit that he'd reached the point where he didn't care. He'd stopped caring sometime after New York. He just wanted it to be done. All of it.

Rhodey gave him a scrutinizing look and Clint knew what he was thinking.

He was thinking the same thing Pepper had been thinking, that there was something wrong with him.

Clint also didn't want to admit that they might be right.

"We've got cake," Happy said brightly, rejoining them in the front room with several plates, forks and a carving knife in his hands.

Pepper was right behind him carrying a platter with the promised treat, setting it down lightly and, with an assist from Happy, doling pieces for each of them. Clint took the offered plate, more to have something to do with his hands than out of actual hunger. He'd stopped craving sweets sometime around his second year at the circus and never really regained the taste for them. For a time, the thought of anything resembling dessert actually turned his stomach; the very idea of cotton candy still did. But, to be polite, he picked at the offering and kept his mouth shut.

Clint was done talking for the night.

He stayed up and listened as everyone talked. He laughed when it was appropriate to do so but never really joined in, going so far as to excuse himself to wash the dishes as soon as he could.

Pepper had objected to that, but Clint wouldn't hear her as he was determined to help out in some way or another.

After Rhodey left for the night, a very late night, and Happy and Pepper retreated to their separate rooms, Clint took his customary walk around the property to ensure everything was locked and in place. It was an old habit of his that predated even his time at SHIELD. He'd only recently stopped pacing the Tower at night, confident enough in the doors and locks to sleep soundly without doing so, but this place was just too new to ignore.

Clint had never felt safe anywhere unless he physically checked a lock for himself or someone he trusted did so for him.

Growing up, the best he sometimes had was just a door and in the Barton house, a door simply never stood a chance, not when his father had been drinking.

After that it was foster home after foster home, and if he was lucky, a simple pop-lock or better, Barney at his side. But even those locks were easy to get around and his brother was not always there. Clint had woken up too many nights with someone hovering over him, wanting things he was too young to fully comprehend.

Finally he'd ended up at the circus, sleeping where he could and when he could. Learning to love high places that kept him out of reach and out of trouble. Barney had laughed and called him a coward; said he needed to learn to fight back. Jacques, the knife-thrower, had called him smart. He'd said that a man knew how to pick his battles and that the most important thing to know was which ones couldn't be won.

Back in the room he'd picked out for himself, Clint stripped down to his underwear and pulled on a pair of sweatpants to sleep in, but sleep wouldn't come easy. It never did in a new place. Eventually he did doze off only to find himself wide awake again, three hours later at four in the morning.

He'd thought he'd heard a noise.

Holding perfectly still and shutting his eyes, Clint concentrated on listening and after a full two minutes of silence, he heard it: someone was outside the house.

Not bothering with a shirt or shoes, Clint moved as fast as he dared to go so as not to make any unnecessary sound. He had no weapon, nothing to protect himself or anyone inside the mansion with, so he'd have to use the only advantage he had, surprise.

Clint slid out the back door and, it took a minute, but he managed to slip out the side gate and began to skirt the fencing, looking for whoever might be out on the property without authorization. Tony's house was literally on a cliff, but had two large side yards that provided ample coverage and a walkway down to the beach. It was a lot of ground to canvas. Just as he thought he was getting somewhere, when he sensed he was closing in on whoever it was, a sharp noise to his right startled him and brought about the realization that there was not one, but two intruders.

The first person, the only one Clint had actually known about, bolted and he could hear the second person heading down towards the beach. Clint hadn't been far from the first person, he'd evidentially been lying in the brush, but at sound, maybe it was a signal even, the man grabbed his bag and made a break for it. Clint gave chase since he'd been the closest, but it was a futile effort. He didn't have shoes, in hindsight a stupid mistake, and the terrain was rough and unfamiliar. By the time Clint rounded the last corner, the guy was back in his car and tearing down the drive.

Clint ended up walking the length of the road and back again, just to be certain, and was surprised to find Pepper waiting in the doorway upon his return.

"What are you doing?" she asked, wrapped in her robe and looking startled.

"Some guy was outside," he answered, pointing vaguely to the fence, realizing that both intruders were long gone. "Didn't get his plate number. Do you have a flashlight?"

"Why?"

"In case he left something behind," Clint answered.

"Sure," Pepper said, shaking her head and clearly confused by his behavior.

She left him for a minute, standing in the doorway, and quickly returned with the flashlight he'd requested.

Clint set off immediately with Pepper right no his heels.

"Maybe you should -" he started to say, but her look cut him short.

"What do you think he wanted?" she asked as they both came to a halt.

"I'm not sure," Clint said, leaning down and checking over the place the man had been.

From there, he'd had a pretty clear view of the house, but not of the entrances or exits. Only the windows. If the man had been looking for a way in, he was scouting in the wrong location.

"Let's get inside," Clint finally said, and Pepper didn't disagree. They walked back in silence, until, "What are you doing up? I didn't wake you, did I?"

"No," Pepper smiled. "I'm still on east coast time. I was already awake when I heard the car."

"But you didn't hear anyone outside? Near the house?"

"No," she said, shaking her head as she opened and headed to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee.

Clint sighed and shook his head. He hadn't imagined the guy in the car, that had definitely happened, but he was beginning to doubt the presence of a second man. That may have just been a piece of a leftover dream or an animal or any other number of things.

"What are your plans for today?" Pepper asked, taking down a couple of mugs from the cabinet and hoping to draw him out of his thoughts. "You're welcome to hang out here. Or the beach is very nice and private, if you prefer. If you don't have a suit -"

"I don't swim," Clint said, shaking his head abruptly.

"Sorry," she grimaced. "I forgot. You probably don't shop much either."

"Not a lot," he admitted with a laugh. "I was actually thinking of just going with you to Stark Industries, if you don't mind. I'd like to get a look at the place."

Pepper turned her back to him briefly to fill up the mugs, so he missed her reaction, but she sounded like herself, maybe a little disappointed, when she said, "Yeah. That's fine. If that's what you want."

"If it's a problem... " he started to say, but she met him again with a smile.

"I just want you to have fun," she shrugged. "This was supposed to be a vacation for you. Don't get me wrong, I love my job, but it's hardly what I'd call exciting."

"I promise you that finding holes in Tony's security is fun for me."

"All right," she said, giving in, "but it's really going to be just one meeting after another for me. You might want to take a book."

"Yeah," he said with a nod. "Hey, speaking of that... where are the books in this place?"

"Digitized."

"Ugh," Clint replied. "Never mind. I hate those e-reader things."

"There's a bookstore near the office," Pepper suggested. "We can swing by on the way in."

"Thanks."

"How's nine o'clock?"

"Whenever you want," Clint answered. "I'll be ready."

Pepper flashed him another smile before taking her mug with her out of the room.

True to his word, and after a shower, shave and quick bite to eat, Clint was ready and waiting for Pepper when it came time for Happy to take her to the office.

"Tell me the truth," Pepper said as they walked through the building. "You've never been here before?"

"Promise you won't be mad?"

"I won't be... if you tell me the truth."

"I have," Clint admitted with a sheepish grin. "I helped scope out Stark Industries and Tony's place just before SHIELD decided to send in Natasha and... and the rest of the team."

Pepper nodded, and mentally noted the absence of Phil's name, but let it pass. She had bigger fish to fry, for the moment.

"During your days as a pizza guy?"

"Yes," he laughed, still sounding a little embarrassed, He dropped his head, in truth, because it was hard to admit to, even if he had been doing his job, but also out of habit. He habitually dropped his head in public places so that no one could get a good look at him. Clint knew how to look without staring; to see without being seen.

"Did you scope out my place?" she asked as they stepped onto the elevator.

Clint was about to confess, but before he could several more people stepped onboard, most giving Pepper a friendly hello or a firm nod. Some did both.

"Ms. Potts?" a young lady asked, after they were nearly alone again, evidently deciding that Clint wasn't exiting any time soon. "If you have a moment today, I'd like to go over the desalinization plans with you for final approval."

"Isn't Ian Summers in charge of that?" Pepper asked.

"Yes, but he isn't comfortable proceeding until you've signed off on it," she answered, her eyes darting from Pepper, to the tablet in her hands, to the floor again without ever once looking in Clint's direction. She seemed nervous, but she was talking to her boss. "It will only take a few minutes. Or I can send you the files if you like but... he asked for your signature."

"No, that's fine," Pepper said good naturedly. "Ride up with us and we'll go over them now."

Her eyes finally shifted over to Clint, as Pepper had motioned his way, and she gave him a small smile. If he'd been a nicer person, he'd have returned it. But honestly, Clint didn't do nice very well. Pepper, sensing the sudden unease, frowned at him and for a moment Clint felt bad. Pepper could do that to a person. It was her gift.

"Ignore him, Ms. Moore," Pepper said with an unaffected laugh. "Stern is his default expression."

Clint didn't want to, but he laughed as well. And Ms. Moore, tried another weak smile, but didn't aim it at Clint this time.

Good as her word, the meeting with Ms. Moore only took a few minutes, and as soon as she'd left, Pepper turned to Clint, hands on hips, shaking her head.

"I'm only going to say this once," she began.

"I wasn't trying to scare anyone," he said defensively before she could get any further.

"Then don't," she finished. "Don't do that here. I won't let you back in if that happens again."

"I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to scare the staff," he said, hands up and as apologetic as he could be. "I'll refrain from making eye contact the rest of my stay and I will sit," he continued, looking around and finally spotting an out of the way chair, "right there," he pointed for emphasis, "out of your way."

"Good."

"I'll just read my book."

"Even better," Pepper laughed, as she sat down behind her desk.

"You won't know I'm here."

"No one had better know you're here."

"You're the boss," Clint finished, sitting down and making a show of opening his brand new book.

"Mm-hmm," Pepper said with a nod, and for some reason, that didn't sit right with him, but he let it pass.

The day went by rather quickly, even if Clint ended up hating the book he picked up and began randomly skimming through Stark Industries network via a tablet Pepper lent him before taking a walk around the building to get a firsthand look at their security measures. Later Pepper's assistant had brought them lunch, which he hardly touched, and by the end of the day he felt like he'd been on assignment. Maybe not a successful one, Clint accomplished nothing, but sitting still and waiting for other people was comfortable ground for him. After work Pepper had Happy swing by a local restaurant for dinner, Thai this time, and the three of them ate back at the mansion and that was that. Pepper retired early, having a lot of work still to go over, so while Happy hung out in the den, Clint took a run on the beach and then decided to call it a night himself.

The next day happened in almost the exact same way, minus the early morning wake up.

They had breakfast at the mansion, grabbed a new book for Clint on the way to the office, and made it to Stark Industries in time for the first of Pepper's many meetings of the day.

While Pepper was off attending her third meeting, this one in the conference room nearby which Clint could see clearly from his vantage spot, Sandra, the assistant whose name Clint finally learned, stepped inside the office.

"Excuse me, sir," she said, crossing the room and motioning him over to the computer on Pepper's desk. "Mr. Stark would like to speak to you."

"Thanks," Clint said, reluctantly taking a seat and seeing Tony's already smiling face on the screen.

"Clint," Tony said loudly. "How's LA? How's everyone treating you? Have you done anything fun or reckless or... both? And if not, why not?"

"LA is... fine. Warm? Everyone's been fine. Happy's a good guy."

"Everyone loves Happy."

"Rhodey, too. Although, Tony... why didn't you tell me about this being his job? That's not..."

"Stop it," Tony said sharply. "Don't worry about that. I'll worry about that. Besides, I think, when the time comes, I can afford two of you. Trust me. I'm not planning on paying either of you very much."

"Okay," Clint sighed.

"How's the secret mission going?" Tony asked, dropping his eyes momentarily and if Clint didn't know better, it sounded as if he was a little embarrassed.

"You mean the one where I follow your girlfriend around like a watchdog and pretend I just like sitting in the corner all day?"

"Yeah, that's the one."

"It's all right," Clint answered with a shrug.

"She doesn't suspect anything..."

"I don't think she does," Clint returned uncertainly. "She hasn't said anything. Not really. I think she's a little disappointed I'm not out... what'd you say? Having fun and being reckless."

"But she hasn't said anything," Tony confirmed.

"Nope."

"Good," Tony said, looking relieved. "That's good. So... nothing else happening? Nothing exciting? Interesting? Have you taken any pre-dawn strolls as of late? Anything like that?"

"Pepper told you."

"Yes and no," Tony said with a smirk. "She said you're hearing noises, not sleeping, not eating. The usual."

"There was a guy outside your place, Tony," Clint said firmly. "I'm not imagining things. I'm not making this up. I know you both think I'm paranoid or depressed -"

"I'm leaning towards PTSD."

"Whatever," Clint said through gritted teeth. "But she heard the car, same as I did."

"Oh, no. I know there was a car. And a guy," Tony said, grinning wickedly as Clint continued to become more and more confused. "Don't you want to know how I know?"

"Sure. Tell me, Tony. How do you know?"

"You're no fun," the other man sighed and shook his head. "Here," he said, pulling up a few pictures on the monitor for Clint to see.

Clint leaned in and muttered, "What the hell?"

"You've officially arrived, my friend," Tony said cheerfully. "The paparazzi have found you out."

"Oh, no," Clint said, shaking his head and leaning in closer to the monitor for a better look at the poor quality pictures displayed. "No. No, this is not good, Tony. This is not good at all."

"You're telling me," Tony laughed. "Apparently, I've been dumped."

"This isn't a joke."

"No, it isn't," Tony returned, suddenly serious. "I'm appalled. And heartbroken. How could the two of you? And in my own house."

Clint continued to shake his head, staring at the pictures. They weren't great, but it was clearly him in most of the shots, taken near the front steps of the mansion. Pepper featured in a few of them as well, and while there was nothing damning about their demeanor, other than the fact that Clint was half dressed and Pepper was in a robe, Clint felt horrible.

The last time he'd had his picture taken was for his SHIELD security badge.

SHIELD, with Tony's help, had even managed to keep his and Natasha's pictures and names out of the accounts of what had happened in New York. Given what they do, the things they'd done, it was better if they kept a low profile. The better part of Clint's life had been about keeping a low profile.

This was a disaster.

"Tony," Clint said, when he finally found his voice again.

"Relax," Tony said, letting him off the hook. "They're not published. A guy called me up, told me about all about Pepper's little rendezvous, and offered to sell them to me. So, naturally, I thanked him profusely, told him I would consider his offer and then hacked into his computer remotely, stole the pics for myself and destroyed his hard drive in the process."

"Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" Clint asked, not appreciating Tony's humor at all in this situation. "This is not a joke. That's not funny."

"What's not funny?" Pepper asked, having just come back into the room.

"Pepper, love," Tony called out, smiling at her when her face finally came into frame. "Why? Why are you doing this to me?"

Pepper looked at Clint, confused. Clint just shook his head, stood up and flipped off the monitor before walking away.

"What's happening?" Pepper asked.

"Barton had his first taste of fame," Tony laughed, still amused even if Clint was not. "The guy outside the house the other night, he had a friend. With a camera. They seem to think there's something happening there."

"Oh my God," Pepper said, half horrified and half amused, as she got a good look at the photos. "How ridiculous," she laughed. "Am I sleeping with Happy, too?"

"Not this week," Tony returned.

"I'm glad the two of you think this is funny," Clint sighed, back in his chair by the door and in Pepper's opinion, looking pale.

"Tony, we'll call you back," Pepper said, disconnecting the line before he had a chance to respond. She watched Clint for a few seconds as he sat there, rubbing his hands over his eyes, before finally crossing the room and sitting in the chair beside his own. "What's bothering you the most about this? It can't just be the pictures. You know Tony was joking and that sometimes his jokes..."

"I'm not worried about his jokes. I know he wasn't serious," Clint said, taking a deep breath as he tried to shake off the sensation of being exposed and vulnerable. "I was thinking... I was thinking I could have killed that guy. If I'd had a weapon. If I'd caught him. I could have killed him and for what? Doing his job? Granted," Clint continued, "his job sucks but.. I don't... the first place my mind went when I saw him was that he was a threat. Not an annoyance or a nuisance, but a threat that had to be neutralized."

"It's... it's going to be an adjustment," Pepper said quietly.

"I don't think I can do this."

Pepper sat there for a minute, watching as he slowly pieced himself back together. Second by second, Clint looked a little better; breathed a little easier. Until, she finally thought he was, not good, but better.

"Let's get out of here," Pepper said, touching him on the shoulder. "Let's call it a day. How about the two of us go out? Do you like movies? We can go get a drink somewhere. Anywhere. Whatever you want to do, Clint. It's completely your call."

"Pepper, I don't..."

"Don't what? Have fun?"

"Not really," Clint said with a half-laugh. He was at the point where he had to laugh.

"We're going out," Pepper said, getting to her feet and looking determined. "Come on. Up. I know just the place."

Half an hour later, Happy dropped the two of them off at the end of a crowded closed off street. There were restaurants, shops, a few bars and clubs, and a band playing in the square at the very center, and the place was packed with people of all sorts. Some with families. Some on dates. Some having just gotten off of work. A few people Clint thought he even recognized from Stark Industries.

"Do you like sushi?" she asked, looping her arm through his and pulling him towards her favorite restaurant.

"I like sake," he answered and she grinned.

"Perfect."

Very quickly they found themselves at a table near the back. Neither of them said a word to one another until after they'd ordered and both taken a few sips from their drinks.

"Okay," Pepper said, nodding her head and fixing him with a firm, stern look. "Spill. We're talking. Right now. Just... just get it out. Let's go."

"You can't make me talk to you."

"Yes, I can."

"No, Pepper," Clint said with a laugh that was maybe a little dismissive. "You can't. I don't want to talk."

"But you need to."

"No."

"Yes," Pepper argued. "You need to talk. You do. I don't care what it's about. I'm not going to judge you. I'm not going to tell anyone. And I know this is a novel approach, but maybe if you actually say what you're thinking and feeling, if you express yourself in some way that isn't silent and broody, you might actually feel better."

"See... no," Clint said, shaking his head. "You say that but I know how you and Tony are. You may not mean to tell him, but you will. He's the mouth and you're the ears of your relationship and... and everything I say to you, you say to him and then..."

"I would never betray a confidence. If you say this is between us, than it is. Completely."

"But..." he egged on, knowing it wasn't as easy as that.

Pepper took a deep breath and looked him in the eyes.

"But," she finally said, "if you tell me you want to harm yourself... I'd have to get you help."

"Christ," he said, dropping his chin to his chest, "do you think I'm that bad? That I'm that..."

"You tell me."

"I'm not."

"Then talk to me."

"What do you want me to say?" he asked, exasperated by her persistence. "I'm... I'm a little lost, okay? I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do because... because no one will tell me what I should be doing. I've..." Clint stopped and took another sip from his drink. "I've spent my whole life listening to other people telling me how to live it. There was Barney, then there was Buck. SHIELD. Hell, Pepper," he said, letting out a biter laugh, "the last time I was left to my own devices I... I practically starved to death and got myself arrested. I'm a mess. I'm a complete mess. I don't know how to function on my own without someone telling me what to do."

"So, what are you saying?"

"That... maybe I shouldn't leave SHIELD. It's safer, for me and for everyone around me. Maybe it's too late and..."

"Because of the guy outside of the mansion?"

"Not just him."

"Is it Natasha?" Pepper asked kindly.

"No. No, she's... she's not going to care if I stay or go. That's got nothing to do with us, what there is of us," he said, unconsciously rubbing the back of his neck as he cast about the room for anything other than Pepper to look at. "She's made her choice and will want me to make my own."

"I thought you had."

"I did too but... It's a big change. Bigger than I thought it would be and everything just keeps changing and changing and..." Clint stopped again, and against his better judgment, finished his sake and poured another. "I keep doubting. I keep second guessing myself about everything. I've always worried... I grew up knowing I was good for nothing, and the one thing I can do... That's the only use I have. That's all I have to offer, so why do I keep fighting it? Why not embrace it? Maybe I belong in SHIELD doing their dirty... doing the work that has to be done by someone. Why not me? I'm not any better than that."

"That isn't true," Pepper said earnestly.

"It is true, Pepper," Clint said, shaking his head. "You're sweet to say it isn't, but like I've said, you don't really know me. Besides, it was the plan. It was what I was meant for."

"You were what?" she asked, having gotten lost in his train of thought.

Clint sat there for a moment, silent as the waiter brought them their orders. Neither of them moved. Neither of them touched their plates. Pepper continued to patiently wait. She didn't stare, but she didn't avoid his gaze either.

Finally, Clint cleared his throat.

"It was what I was shown," he said evenly.

"I'm not sure I understand."

"The Tesseract," Clint said quietly once he'd checked the room again to be certain no one was paying them too much attention. "It... it showed us things. Made things... clear. For me it was not only what I needed to do, but what I was supposed to do." Pepper sat back and fixed him with as neutral of an expression as she could muster, but the way he was talking was frightening and Clint seemed to know that. It almost seemed to scare him as well. "And I was supposed to kill," he continued after a pause. "It's what I'm meant for. I was supposed to get to the Helicarrier, and I did. I was supposed to ground it, and I almost did. And then, after I made sure... after I checked on... on him, after I made certain he'd escaped as planned, I was supposed to go back and do what I'd been shown. Do what I was made for," he repeated. "And die. When I was done, when my usefulness ran out, I was supposed to die." Pepper couldn't respond. She brought her napkin up to her eyes and discreetly wiped them, having no idea what to say. "It was like knowing yourself," Clint continued after another longer pause. "It was like seeing perfectly. I saw myself, Pepper."

"First," Pepper said after clearing her throat, and a good solid minute or two had passed allowing them both to regain some composure, "that wasn't you. That... that thing didn't really know you. It used you. He," she said, not the only one of them unable to say the name, "used you. He'd have done anything, he did do everything he could do to... to twist you to his needs. That wasn't real. It wasn't you."

"You say that. Natasha says that. Everyone... everyone says that but," he answered, shaking his head skeptically, "none of you really know what it was like on the inside. Things had never been clearer than they were then. Never."

"You almost sound like you miss it."

"I miss the certainty of it," Clint admitted after a brief hesitation. "The work I do for SHIELD is pretty straightforward. I'm given a target. Sometimes a team. Sometimes it's just me. Whatever I need, I get, to get the job done, but ultimately I have to decide. Ultimately I make the decision on who lives and who dies, because I'm taking the shot." He paused as if thinking over exactly how to say what he needed to say. How to best be understood. "It's very rarely easy," he decided on. "There have been a few times when I knew, without a second thought, that I was doing not only the right thing, but the only thing. People are rarely just good or evil, right or wrong, and being responsible... it's hard and I've made mistakes."

"I'm not going to pretend to know exactly the kind of... I have an idea of what SHIELD does. The kinds of people they handle. But, Clint, you're proving my point. You're not some bloodthirsty killer who does this for fun. You're doing a job, a hard job, and it's taken a toll."

"I'm not saying I am or that it hasn't," Clint agreed. "I know it has. I guess what I'm trying to explain is that while I was... when I was being controlled, there wasn't any reason to hesitate. There was no second guesses. There was just what needed to be done. It was... peaceful. He was right about that. There was no struggle. No conflict. No anything. Just acceptance. I'd never accepted who I was until..."

"And it's gone now," she added quietly.

"And I'm left..." he agreed. "Knowing what I am and hating it."

Neither of them knew what to say after that so instead they ate their meals in an uneasy silence.


	2. Part II

_**Part II**_

After dinner, instead of calling Happy for a ride back to the mansion, Pepper decided to take Clint for a stroll along the storefronts for a little bit of window shopping.

Pepper still believed talking was good for him, but like most things not related to his job within SHIELD, Clint had no practice at it and getting used to the idea was going to take some time. Clint firmly believed he'd said more than enough; that in fact, he'd said way too much. He was starting to think that beside the near-crippling doubt he felt on a daily basis since he'd been brought back, that maybe he'd also been saddled with a defective brain-to-mouth censor. Words, whole stories in fact, had been spilling out of him lately at an alarming rate. That was just not normal.

"Do you mind if I go in?" Pepper asked, pointing at the door of the shop they'd stopped in front of for a few minutes. "I'll be quick."

"Whatever you want," Clint returned, grabbing the door and waving her inside ahead of himself.

Pepper knew exactly what she wanted, went right for the shoe section, and caught the nearest salesperson's eye almost immediately. She hadn't been lying, they were back on the street in under ten minutes.

"Feel better?" Clint asked, half smiling as he spoke.

"Yes, actually. What about you?"

"Nothing to shoot."

Pepper pursed her lips and spun her head from side to side. "Darts?" she asked, motioning towards a nearby bar.

"I don't know..."

"The night is young," Pepper said, already heading towards the door. "I've bought my shoes. It's your turn."

"Do you even know how to play darts?" Clint asked skeptically.

"That's offensive," Pepper laughed, at the door and leading the way. "Of course I do. I picked it up in college and I'm not half bad."

"Okay then."

"But you've got to spot me a little. To make it fair."

It took some time for a board to become available, and even after Clint gave Pepper a very generous lead, he still beat her five games straight.

"I surrender," she laughed, sitting down at the nearest table after he'd refreshed their drinks. "Enough. You are ridiculously good at this and... and I never stood a chance."

"I said you could take more points."

"That really doesn't make me feel better," Pepper laughed, relieved to see him smiling again. Even if it was only a little bit.

"All right, next time I'll play right handed. Better?"

"How about blindfolded?" she suggested.

"You're on," he said, clinking his glass against hers.

"So," she said, after she'd finished taking another sip and hoping to sound nonchalant, "I know where you learned all the other stuff. Where'd you pick up darts?"

"Same place," he answered, only slightly wary. "Although it was knives, not darts. Pretty much the same thing. We'd sometimes hustle at darts for money though, when things got tough."

"We being you and your brother?" she asked very carefully.

"Sometimes," Clint answered, wondering how much Tony had told her. Clint knew Tony hadn't told the rest of the team about his involvement in Barney's death, but wasn't sure if that level of discretion had carried over to Pepper. "I didn't have a lot of friends. Even then. I've never been very good at... at, well, any of this," he said, waving a hand around the room.

"I don't think you're giving yourself enough credit."

"I am, really," he laughed. "Hell, Barney could hardly stand me. He only stuck around as long as he did because he had to and then..."

Clint stopped himself just in time. If Tony hadn't told her the entire story, he sure wasn't going to be the one to tell her. Instead, he picked up his drink and let his eyes linger on the table.

"I'm sorry about your brother," Pepper said quietly, and Clint knew by the way she'd said it that Tony had kept his secret. "I shouldn't have brought it up."

"It was a long time ago."

"Still," Pepper sighed. "I just want to help, but maybe I'm going about this the wrong way. I've been asking you questions. Poking. Prodding. Turnabout is fair play so... ask away. What do you want to know? Anything. Go." Clint shook his head and lifted his eyes up with a grin. "I'm serious," Pepper persisted. "It's your turn to be nosy."

"Pepper."

"Yes?"

"I already know all about you."

"How's that?"

"Tony told you how," Clint sighed, no longer as amused as he'd once been. "I've read your file. I helped... I helped compile your file. Surveillance. Reconnaissance. He was right. We know almost everything about you and Tony and, well, everyone. That's why I didn't care if everyone read my file. Turnabout and all of that stuff."

"You can't know everything," Pepper said skeptically.

"I know enough."

"Like what?"

"Okay," Clint said, leaning back in his chair and forcing himself to meet her eyes, "you were born in Temecula. Parents names are Catherine and George. Your father is deceased; heart attack seven years ago. Your mother is semi-retired and lives in San Diego, near your older sister, Margaret. She paints and she's pretty good at it. Sells ceramics at art festivals on the weekends and sometimes teaches classes. Margaret is married, six years now, to David Crammer. She's a nurse and he's an environmental lawyer. They don't have any children yet, but are looking into adoption. You graduated from UCLA with a degree in political science and took an entry-level position in Stark Industries. You got a significant promotion after spotting a clerical error in some very important military contracts and, until recently, worked as Tony's personal assistant. How am I doing?"

Pepper, who had been about to take another drink herself, before he'd began speaking, was still holding her glass partially raised to her lips. She was stunned. She was positively floored he knew that much about her. She'd have never guessed.

"There's more," he said.

"That's... that's plenty," she said, setting the glass down and giving him a hard look. "Like what? What more... No. Don't answer that. I don't want to know. I really don't."

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm not trying to scare you. A lot of that is public record and wasn't hard to find. And, at the time, we had to know who you were."

"Is that why you're so vigilant about leaving traces?"

"Yeah. I guess it is. I know how easy it is to get."

Pepper nodded and tried to push it from her mind. She didn't want to judge him on his past. He'd done nothing to her personally; he'd been doing his job.

"Pepper?" a man's voice called out from nearby, causing them both to turn. "It is you," he laughed, getting out of the booth he'd been sharing with three other people to greet her properly. "Uh oh, everyone. Be on your best behavior. The boss is here."

"Hi, Ian," Pepper said, as friendly as ever, as she shook his hand and walked with him back to where the others were. "How is everyone tonight?"

Everyone responded in turn as Clint purposely hung back to get a better look. Ian Summers he knew was fairly high in the company, heading up a new environmental division. He was the oldest one there, short and nearly bald, but otherwise looked to be in good shape physically. His assistant, Rebecca Moore, he'd met briefly in the elevator on his first day at the company. She was young, petite and blond, but otherwise fairly average. The other woman at the table, which Clint discovered only because Pepper dragged him over and insisted on introductions, was Beth Smith. She also worked in the new environmental division and was some kind of biologist. She was tall, very attractive, with straight black hair, and was probably just a few years younger than Clint was himself.

Clint, not comfortable but trying to be, listened to them talk about work for a few minutes. Ian seemed intent on monopolizing Pepper, now that he had her ear, and continued to chat up his ideas for the new division. Rebecca was content to watch along, joining their conversation when she had something of value to say, and mostly when it would go most unnoticed.

That left Clint and Beth.

"So," she said with a smile, leaning in as she tapped her index finger against her lips in contemplation. "Where did Stark find you?"

"What makes you think he did?" he asked in return, reluctantly smiling.

"You don't look like Pepper's type."

"And I look like Tony's?" Clint laughed.

"Yes. You do."

"And what's that?" he asked, smiling now for real and admittedly enjoying the attention. A little bit. Easy banter was a nice change from the deep questions Pepper wanted answers to.

"Eccentric," Beth said with a smirk.

"I'm not sure that's a complement."

"Well, why don't you give me one so I know how it's done."

Clint laughed again and saw Pepper's eyes dart quickly in their direction and he was struck by a sudden suspicion that Tony had somehow set this up. He couldn't put it past him and Clint assumed that, somewhere on Tony's to do list for getting Clint over Natasha, there was some kind of hook up involved.

"I am afraid I am out of practice in that department," Clint said as diplomatically as he could

"That's a shame," she sighed before taking a sip from her drink, "but maybe we can do something about that. Will you be at the fundraiser on Friday? Because I will."

"Fundraiser?" Clint repeated, missing the rest of her statement completely.

"He'll be there," Pepper answered, throwing her arm around his shoulder and giving him a quick squeeze.

"I will?"

"Yes," Pepper answered decisively.

"I look forward to it," Beth smiled.

The night didn't last much longer after that. Clint tried to wrest some more details about this fundraiser he was supposed to attend later in the week, but Pepper skillfully evaded him at every turn.

The next day began pretty much the same way as the previous two had except they went out for lunch with a small group of people from the office, including Beth. After that it was straight to the spa, where to as soon as Clint tried to follow Pepper back to the pedicure station he was stopped by a disgruntled manager.

"Customers only," she'd said, blocking his path. "You can wait out here."

"Sorry, Clint," Pepper said with a shrug. "I won't be long, unless..."

"Unless what?" he asked, not yet moving away. He'd grown more comfortable with not keeping Pepper directly in sight around Stark Industries, but this was different. From the waiting area he wouldn't be able to see her at all. And yes, maybe he was taking this assignment a bit too seriously, but he couldn't help himself. It gave him something to do. As far as he could tell, Stark Industries and the mansion were both very secure. All he had left was watching out for Pepper.

"Well, you can get a pedicure. Lots of men do. It's like a foot massage."

"No."

"Okay then, have fun... way over there," Pepper said brightly, shrugging her shoulders as if to say she'd tried.

Clint mulled it over for a moment, clearly conflicted. If he'd cased the shop ahead of time, it wouldn't have been an issue. But he hadn't known they'd come here. He didn't know where the exits were. He was pretty sure he hadn't even seen all of the employees.

"They're not going to put polish on my toes, are they?"

"Do you want them to?" Pepper asked.

"No."

"Well then, no. They won't."

"Fine," he sighed. "Okay. Let's... let's get this over with."

"It's a pedicure, not torture."

"Same-same," Clint returned, albeit with a slight smile.

It wasn't relaxing. Every noise startled him because he was so out of his element. Clint hated people he didn't know touching him, let alone touching his feet. And, to top it all off, Pepper couldn't even look at him without giggling. He was also fairly certain she'd snapped a few pictures of him with her cell phone which meant he'd have to swipe it from her, sooner being better than later.

"Okay," Pepper said when they were back on the street again, "I've got a few hours before my next meeting and you need a suit so -"

"What?"

"For the fundraiser," Pepper answered smoothly. "Unless you brought one with you?"

"I don't own a suit."

"That's what I thought," Pepper said, steamrolling right over the rest of his answer. "So, you'll need a suit. Come on."

Not for the first time, Clint discovered there was no arguing with Pepper when she was set on something. The fundraiser was happening Friday night, and Clint was going. He'd have agreed to go, casually, and stayed in the background, but that was not what she had in mind at all. And, again, Clint had that uneasy sensation that he was being set up for something more.

After the fitting, and some back and forth over who was going to pay, another battle lost, Clint thanked Pepper and held the door for her on the way out where Happy was waiting with the car.

As he did, he saw him.

Across the street, taking more pictures, was the guy that had been outside of the mansion.

"Wait here," he said firmly, after giving her a hand into the car and ignoring her immediate protest.

The guy, whoever he was, as soon as he saw Clint was heading his way, took off running. Thinking that at least his day had gotten more interesting, Clint followed. He had no intention of hurting the guy, he knew now what he was doing; Clint only wanted to talk to him. To be certain it wasn't more.

For two blocks he steadily gained on the other man, but when Clint rounded the last corner he saw the guy diving into the backseat of a car that was already pulling away.

All he could do was get the license plate number and hope it panned out.

Back on the street, the car pulled up and both Happy and Pepper looked worried and confused.

"Got away," Clint said, already taking out his SHILED issued phone as he sat back against the seat.

"It's really not a big deal," Pepper tried to reassure him.

"I just want him checked out," Clint said, reluctantly dialing the only number he could.

"That couldn't hurt," Happy agreed, before shrinking under Pepper's gaze. "Well, he is the expert."

"Yes," Pepper said sharply. "He is."

Clint didn't reply, he was still waiting on the distant end to pick up.

Finally, "Hill," came the sharp voice across the line.

"It's Barton. I need a favor."

"Yeah, well, I needed you to take a mission but instead you decided to vacation at your buddy's house in Malibu. Call him."

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

"I'll owe you one," Clint said, exasperated by her very voice.

"Fine," he heard her sigh. "What do you need?"

"I need you to run a tag for me."

"Is this a joke? Barton, please. I'm busy. Call the nearest field agent and have them check it out for you. I'm not your secretary."

"I can't do that. I don't... I need someone I trust and..."

"And I'm the closest thing you have?" she filled in, knowingly.

"Yes."

"Read it to me," she sighed, and he could almost see her rolling her eyes.

Clint read off the number he'd memorized and hung up without another word.

Pepper fixed him with a look, a brief one, but didn't say any more about it. Clint didn't mind her being angry this time; he thought he was right.

The rest of the day was fairly typical. Pepper made it back to work in time for her next meeting and Clint hung back at her office. By the end of the day, Pepper didn't appear to be angry any longer, but she was quieter than usual.

"So," Pepper said as soon as they were back in the car. "Is everything ready for tonight?"

"Seven o'clock," Happy replied. "It's a go."

"Perfect, thank you."

"What's happening at seven?" Clint asked.

"Nothing much," Pepper said breezily. "I'm just having a few friends over for dinner. You're welcome to join us," she continued, but when Happy snorted at the invitation, Clint knew he was missing something.

"Maybe I'll stick to my room."

"Suit yourself," Pepper said with a slight smile.

It turned out to be a good idea. The friends Pepper invited were all women. Most were from work, but a few were friends she'd made in college. Also there, her sister, mother and a cousin. All told, there were about twenty guests and Clint, comfortable as he was with women, felt completely out of place again. A feeling he was beginning to associate with California.

Luckily, Pepper didn't push for introductions this time. He'd said he would stay out of the way, and since he did, she let him. Clint kept out of the main part of the mansion, where the majority of the guests were, and only snuck out of his room and into the kitchen, briefly, for a bite to eat.

Happy was there, along with a few caterers hired for the party.

"She do this a lot?" Clint asked, able to clearly hear the guests on the other side of the door.

"Not really," Happy admitted as he prepared himself a plate. "Typically Pepper has smaller gatherings. Tony's the one that usually invites everyone. But, I guess she's been gone awhile. Won't be here long. So..."

Clint nodded and understood, even if he didn't have as many people in his life as Pepper obviously did, he understood wanting to see them and be with them whenever possible.

"You know everyone out there?" he asked, not quite ready to let it go. It was worrying him, even though it shouldn't. Pepper knew and trusted these people. Tony probably knew and trusted these people as well. But the idea of so many people Clint didn't know, everywhere and in what was rapidly becoming his personal space, was making his fingers twitch.

"Yeah," Happy said. "There's probably a few from the office I don't know, but they've all passed security checks there. Why? You worried?"

"I'm going to go take a walk," Clint said, not answering because he didn't want to admit that he was worried. He had no reason to be worried. He was being paranoid and he knew it.

After checking the cars, the doors, around the mansion and various other spots that allowed him close to the party, without actually joining it, Clint situated himself out on the patio. Everyone was inside. He could hear them and even occasionally see them through the drapes. Being there, within an easy distant to provide assistance, relaxed him and made him feel easier about the whole situation.

If he didn't know better, Clint would have thought Pepper was purposely antagonizing him.

Clint sat outside, reading for the first hour. As the second hour rolled around, he considered calling Hill for an update, but then realized the hour. The east coast was three hours ahead and while he never expected a warm reception from Hill, calling her late into the night was not a great plan. Bored, and considering going in to pick up an e-reader of all things, Clint was pulled back from his own thoughts by the sound of the door sliding open.

"Well, imagine running into you again," Beth Smith said with a smile as she ambled over to where Clint was sitting. "Are you hiding?"

"Maybe a little," he admitted with a laugh. "Mostly I'm just trying to stay out of the way. It's Pepper's party, not mine."

"And you're not close enough friends to join in?" she asked as she sat down at the end of the lounge chair he'd been occupying.

"I'm not here for parties," he returned, sitting up and swinging his legs over the other side of the chair, so that they ended up, more or less, side-by-side while their bodies faced opposite directions.

"Security, right?"

"Consulting."

"How's business?" she asked, eyebrow raised as the corner of her mouth tugged up into half a smile.

"Booming."

"That's good news," she said, still smiling and Clint had to keep himself from shifting away.

They were sitting too close together. Her hand was resting too close to his own. He shouldn't feel guilty about this, especially considering recent events, but his mind immediately jumped to Natasha and what her reaction might be. Or what her non-reaction might be, because it really could go either way.

That ultimately didn't matter.

What mattered to Clint was what he felt for Natasha. And, since he'd come to that realization, that he not only loved her but was in love with her, he had actively avoided these kinds of situations.

Since after Geneva.

"Listen," he said, drawing out the word slowly.

"Is this where you tell me you have a wife?"

"No," Clint said quickly, shaking his head. "I'm not married."

"Well, good then," Beth returned before leaning in and pressing her lips against his.

It took a second to react, but he did. Clint put his hand over hers and pulled away, as far away as he could without getting up and leaving.

"That doesn't mean I don't have someone."

"Where is she?" she asked with a smirk.

"She's..."

"Back in New York?" she asked, knowing the answer. "That's fine. I don't mind," she continued, tipping her head to the side as she drug her free hand through his hair. "I'm just talking. We're just talking. It's all in good fun, right?"

Clint took a deep breath and instantly regretted it, having caught a whiff of Beth's perfume. She was tempting. This was tempting. It had been a very long time since the woman beside him hadn't been Natasha, which was entirely his choice. And when it was Natasha, she'd been achingly clear where the boundaries of their relationship were. That there were limits to what that relationship would be, that she would set and could disregard, but he could not.

The last time he'd been this close to any woman, she'd tried to use him. Maybe every time, which, he wouldn't lie, worked both ways. But the last time...

This time wasn't any different, but at least Beth was upfront about it.

She took his silence as an answer, leaning in and kissing him again.

He didn't stop her this time. He didn't move away or pull back. He kissed her back.

Just after Clint had relaxed into her embrace though, the realization that this wasn't what he wanted dawned on him.

"I..." he said, moving away, further this time, and shaking his head, "I can't do this."

Beth gave him a curious look before shrugging her shoulders with a grin. "Can't say I didn't try," she said as she got to her feet to go. "Maybe by Friday you'll change your mind."

Clint smiled back at her but doubted very much that would be the case.

It was going to take a lot longer than a couple of days.

After the party ended there wasn't much left to do but help pick up, which Pepper insisted he didn't have to do, and recheck the perimeter to ensure everyone was well and truly gone. Clint still managed to be the last one in bed that night and the first one up the next morning.

"Good morning," Pepper said as Clint handed her a mug of coffee. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

"Ready for work?" she asked with a smile, evidentially having forgiven him for chasing after unarmed men in the street.

"Whenever you are."

"Great," she said, still smiling. "Oh, but you may want to bring a set of gym clothes. I mean, if you want to. I'm going to swing by and take a class this morning."

"But... you have a full gym right here in the house," he said, not comprehending the need.

"I like to take classes."

"Okay, I guess... Yeah, okay. Let me put some things together," he said, as she gave him a nod, and he exited the kitchen feeling slightly uneasy again, still without cause.

Clint met Pepper at the door, bag in hand and ready to go.

"Oh, you know what I remembered?" she said, speaking to both Clint and Happy. "My salon trip. I'm getting my hair done this afternoon. Happy, can you swing by and pick Clint up after lunch?"

"You don't have to do that," Clint objected on instinct. "There's no point in making an extra trip. I'll just tag along."

Pepper tipped her head to the side and gave him half a smile in acknowledgment, but said no more.

As it turned out the gym Pepper was going to was inside of Stark Industries. It wasn't very large, but certainly had enough space to fit the personnel employed at the company and was well equipped.

Clint's first idea, in order to give Pepper some space, was to just go through his own routine while she was attended her class. However, as soon as he saw that, from where he'd be that he wouldn't be able to see her, that plan was out the window.

Pepper didn't say anything when Clint followed her into the first class, which turned out to be cycling. He knew he'd have to participate, which wasn't a problem and after a tough hour, the instructor was brutal, Clint was certain Pepper would be ready to go. Instead, she headed straight to the next room and picked up a matt on the way through the door.

"If yoga isn't your thing..." Pepper started to say, sensing his apprehension.

"No," Clint answered, taking a quick sweep of the room, "it's fine."

"Are you sure?"

Clint nodded firmly and another hour passed, relatively easy, but not as easy as the cycling class had been, and they were both back in their respective locker rooms.

If Clint wasn't mistaken, Pepper was wearing her angry face again, but he had no idea why this time. Unless... well, unless she'd found out about Beth somehow. Clint didn't know why that would anger her, it wasn't really his fault, but he could sort of understand it. Beth worked for Pepper and technically, very soon, so would Clint. There were probably regulations.

For the rest of the day, back at the office for work until Pepper's salon appointment, Clint tried but couldn't figure it out. She wasn't saying or doing anything she wouldn't normally and Pepper really wasn't treating him any differently, but there was something underlying there that felt just out of reach.

"Mr. Stark is on the screen for you," Pepper's secretary Sandra said as she poked her head through the door.

"Thanks," Clint responded, knowing the drill by now. Pepper was in a meeting and Tony usually called and checked in a few times a day, at least one of those was meant just for Clint. "Hey, Tony," he said as he sat down. "How's New York?"

"Cold. We might have snow before you get back. How's LA?" Tony asked in return, but Clint just kind of rolled his eyes. "How can you hate LA? That's not... that's not normal, Barton."

"Hey, did Hill call you?" Clint asked, changing the subject.

"Was she supposed to?"

"Yes," Clint answered. "I got the plate number for one of those guys that have been tailing us and she was supposed to run them and give you the information."

"Yeah... about that..."

"Pepper?"

"She really doesn't want you to chase people down the street. That's not keeping a very low profile," Tony said, but he didn't sound angry, only slightly amused.

"Is that what she's mad about? Still?"

"Pepper's mad?" Tony asked, perking up and finally looking fully engaged.

"I think she is. She keeps giving me these looks and... It's like I did something wrong but I don't know what it could be. Has she said anything to you?"

"What kind of looks?" Tony asked. "Like this?" he continued, demonstrating a very good impression of an extremely pissed off Pepper.

"Not that one."

"This one?" he pressed, showing a completely different expression that was, once again, a dead ringer for a Pepper face.

"Yes," Clint answered. "That's the look. What does that mean?"

"Oh... that's not good," Tony mused, shaking his head. "I mean I know she's worried... Hey, Happy said there were some people over last night."

"Yeah, about twenty or so."

"Twenty," Tony repeated, shaking his head. "And when you freaked out and chased that guy... where were you?"

"I didn't freak out," Clint clarified, a little angry at the accusation.

"Whatever. Where were you?"

"Pepper had gotten a pedicure and then made me go shopping."

"How did she make you shop?"

"She said I needed a suit for the fundraiser because I have to go," Clint shrugged.

"Okay, and today?" Tony asked, eyebrow raised.

"The gym, cycling and yoga. Then here. This afternoon it's the salon, again. Honestly, I didn't think Pepper was this..." Clint stopped before he'd added 'high-maintenance' because he didn't know if she was or not, or whether Tony would like him saying it.

"And you're going everywhere with her?"

"Pretty much."

"And she hasn't wondered why?"

Clint and Tony both fell silent because they knew the answer to that one.

"She knows," Tony said after a beat and Clint just nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, I do," Pepper's voice said, as her picture popped up in a new frame. "And if the two of you think that this is in any way acceptable... that you can just pull the wool over my eyes... that I wouldn't notice what was going on... Am I stupid? Am I naive? What did you think, that I wouldn't notice Clint was following me around for the rest of my life, Tony? Is that what you thought?"

Seeing that Pepper was focused on Tony, and not him, Clint tried to slowly sneak out of frame, mid-rant, but didn't get far.

"Sit down, Barton," Pepper snapped, and Tony couldn't help but chuckle. "You're not off the hook here. I know this was Tony's idea, but you went along with it. You lied to me."

"I didn't lie... I just... I didn't lie."

"He didn't," Tony added defensively. "And it was my idea."

"I do not need a bodyguard," Pepper said emphatically. "Tony, we've talked about this. It isn't necessary and I'm not going to live my life constantly afraid. And, no offense to you, Clint, I love having you around as my friend, but I can't live my life this way. I won't."

"Understood," Clint said simply.

Pepper nodded and Tony looked hopefully that he'd get off just as easily.

"We're not done," Pepper said, and like that, Tony's hopeful expression faded. "Clint, Happy's waiting in the lobby to take you back to the mansion. Dinner's at seven tonight. Go out and do something."

"Are you sure you don't want me at your hair appointment?" he asked, not at all serious. "I could hold your purse."

"You were half a day away from pottery lessons and a poetry reading," she returned, smiling back at him, more like the Pepper he knew.

"I'll see you at seven," he said with a wave, disconnecting the call on his end and leaving Tony to his fate.

As she'd said he would be, Happy was waiting for Clint downstairs. He had a smile on his face that said he knew what had happened, and Clint could only smile and shrug his shoulders. He spent the rest of the day at the mansion, reading out on the deck and generally trying to take it easy, but without success.

Clint absolutely was the type of person that needed something to do.

Too much free time gave him too much time to think and eventually Clint's thoughts strayed back to Natasha. He loved her, he missed her and he couldn't have her. That really should have been the end of it, but they were so immersed in one another's lives and business that it couldn't be done. Clint was determined not to push, to not even attempt another try at it, but instead of each day getting easier, it only seemed to feel worse.

Clint had never had much in his life and he was still recovering from practically losing it all for what amounted to a mad man's whim. Loki had taken his self control, his very sense of self, and destroyed it. Phil was... gone. Natasha was distant. And Clint was left surrounded by well meaning people, who would help if he'd let them, but he couldn't. They had their own problems and no one needed his added on top.

There was going to be no one this time, and he would have to face that. Clint would be alone, no matter if he stayed with SHIELD, no matter if he joined the Avengers.

Maybe that's what he needed.

By that evening, Clint wasn't in much of a mood to go out for dinner, and even thought of bowing out entirely, but this turned out to be one of those things Pepper was insistent on. She really wanted Clint and Rhodey to get along, so reluctantly he agreed and got ready to go. Happy had backed out of this trip, having plans of his own, so Rhodey offered to pick them up. The place was nice. The food was good. But, as usual, Clint began to feel like the third wheel midway through the dinner and his own thoughts began to wander again.

Gradually, as he started paying attention again, he realized they were talking about New York. Having never heard Pepper talk it over with anyone, not even Tony, Clint grew interested. She was still having a hard time discussing it, but was calm and as matter-of-fact as she could be.

"Tony won't talk about it," Pepper sighed as she answered Rhodey's inquiry, sounding sad, "but I know he's dealing with it by not dealing with it. Not directly. He's working long hours. Making designs. Making plans. Preparing... just in case."

"I really wish he'd stop by and give us a hand with that," Rhodey said, shaking his head. "No one expected that. Everyone was caught off guard. Well..."

Rhodey turned to Clint and he should have known that was coming.

"SHIELD was... they were planning but they didn't know. They couldn't really. I don't think anyone could have known exactly how bad it was. Next time..."

"Next time, hopefully, we'll all be more prepared," Rhodey said firmly.

"Let's not..." Pepper said, shaking her head ruefully, "let's not say it. Saying is like wishing and... no. I can't imagine going through that again. Let's pretend there won't be a next time," she finished with a falsely sunny smile.

"If there is, I hope Tony's first move is to call me up," Rhodey commented.

"I don't know what Tony will do," Clint said with his eyes on his plate as he picked his food apart with his fork, "but the next time an alien from another realm pops up in front of me, I'm not wasting bullets trying to take him down. Next time, I'll just save everyone some trouble and shoot myself in the head first."

As soon as he'd said it, he realized it was a mistake. Not because it wasn't true. Clint really thought if he found himself back in that situation, that's what he would do. But it was a mistake to say it out loud.

Clint could feel them looking at him. He heard Pepper set her fork down against her plate. He heard Rhodey shift uncomfortably in his seat.

"Excuse me," Clint said, wiping his hands on his napkin before standing to leave.

He needed some fresh air.

Neither of them made to stop him.

Clint decided on a brisk walk around the block to calm his nerves and clear his head.

He hadn't meant to say it. He hadn't meant for it to be taken the way it obviously had been. He knew that this was trouble, big trouble, but it was too late to take it back.

Feeling, not better exactly, but more capable of facing Pepper again, Clint went back inside and retook his seat.

Neither of them brought it up again.

Until...

Back at the mansion, Rhodey having just dropped them off and Happy nowhere to be found, Pepper took a deep breath before she began.

"I don't know what to do for you."

"Pepper," he sighed.

"And... I hate feeling this way," she continued. "I hate watching... I know you don't think it's a problem. Or that it's a big deal. Or you think it's something you can handle, but I just want to make sure you know that you don't have to handle it alone," Pepper said quietly. "There are some things that no one can handle alone. I've seen this before. I watched Tony self-destruct because of pride. His and mine, because I let him. I sat back and watched and waited for him to come to me. I didn't want to interfere. I didn't think I had the right to interfere, but I'm never doing that again. I swore I wouldn't," she said, stopping to clear her throat.

"I am having problems," he said, taking full advantage of her pause, but not quite able to meet her eyes, "but... I can do this. I can work this out. I appreciate the offer, I do. And the concern but... I don't need help."

"Okay, maybe you don't want my help," Pepper relented. "But there has to be someone you can ask."

"I don't need... There's..." he stumbled, pressing his lips together and taking a breath before starting over. "I don't need any help."

"But if you did?"

"I don't know," he admitted, throwing his hands in the air.

"There has to be someone you trust. Someone that would understand and that you could talk to, if you needed it."

"There's..."

"Who?"

"There was but he's dead," Clint blurted out, but instead of feeling better for finally having said it, as Pepper suggested he would, he only felt worse. "Phil's dead. And I'm sorry, Pepper, you can't take his place."

It came out possessive and childish, and it was, but Clint couldn't help how he felt. Clint knew that, ultimately, that may be the thing most wrong with him. Phil wasn't just gone, he was dead. He had been there for Clint the longest, had been the steadiest influence on him. He'd kept Clint together and sane and whole through countless missions, both successful and failed. He'd kept Clint and Natasha's relationship in check. Had kept them from pushing each other too far apart, while he simultaneously kept the two of them together; a tricky balance they didn't seem to have the talent for alone.

Phil Coulson, probably the only person in the world who could have stopped this tailspin Clint had been in, was dead.

And it was his fault.

"I wouldn't try," she said with quiet sincerity.

"I just... I don't know what to do." Pepper nodded at his words, but before she found any words of her own to say, Clint's phone rang. He excused himself to the other side of the room before answering, "Barton."

"It's Hill," Maria said on the other end before she immediately got to the point. "Ran your tag. Cliff Hanson. The guy's a nobody. Got a couple of minor trespassing charges, but nothing serious and no ties that I could find. He's harmless, works freelance, but just in case, I passed the full report off to Stark. I assumed, if anything can be done, his lawyers will take care of it."

"Thanks, Hill."

"No problem," she returned. "Oh, one more thing. He does have a partner. Still working on that guy's name."

"Doesn't matter. Tony probably knows how to handle this thing better than I do."

"I thought you knew everything."

"Funny, Hill," Clint said, but there was no inflection in his voice. He was emotional drained.

"My advice," Maria returned, unruffled, "if Taylor sneaks back onto the property, grab him up and get answers. We don't know who his friend works with and that might be worth knowing." Clint wrinkled his nose, a little surprised. Hill usually preached caution and regulation and procedure, and what she was suggesting was not any of those things. "Besides," she continued and inexplicably, Clint felt his stomach go cold, "you know what they say. A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush."

"Is that what they say?" Clint returned automatically.

"Isn't that an old wives tale?" Maria asked back.

"I think you're right."

"I am always right," Maria said. "Got to go. My line is open if you need it," she added before disconnecting the call.

For a long moment Clint stood there, staring down at his phone, crippled with uncertainty.

It couldn't have been a coincidence.

For one thing, Clint didn't believe in coincidence. For another, it was entirely too specific. Hill had just given him the code to watch his back, but it wasn't one she'd ever been in on or used before. That particular phrase, a bird in the hand, was used exclusively between Clint, Natasha and Phil.

It was a simple code and the simplest way they'd had to warn one another of the fact that they were being followed or tracked. The person who got the message was the one in danger, sometimes immediate danger. They were literally the bird, nearly in the hands of some hostile force, while the other two were safe and out of reach. The reply question, 'is that what they say', is the indicator that the message had been received and would be acted on. And the answer to that question let them know who had found out and was working a solution. A reference to an 'old wives tale' meant Natasha, Phil was a proverb, Clint was superstition.

It was confusing.

Clint wasn't on a mission.

"Everything okay?" Pepper asked after watching him silently for more than a few minutes.

"I need to..." he stalled, because what he needed he didn't know how to get. "I'm going to check the house. Is there a safe room? Does Tony have anywhere that only you or he could get into?"

"There's the workshop," Pepper answered, "but what's going on? Clint?"

"Let's go," Clint said, ushering her forward without much protest. "Lock it up and stay there until I come back. Do you have a phone?"

"Yes, but..."

"Give me fifteen minutes. If I don't come back, call 911 and report a prowler on the property. Okay?"

"Clint," Pepper said, really worried now.

"It's fine," he said calmly. Now that he was moving, acting, he was calm. This was the easy part, when instinct took over. "It is. Just stay here," he said as they reached the workshop. "Disable the entry panel. Can you do that?"

"Yes."

"Good," he said with a nod. "Do it. Don't let anyone else any. No one, until I'm back. I mean that. Not Rhodey or Happy or anyone that isn't me. Don't forget. Fifteen minutes."

Pepper locked the door as Clint watched from the other side of the glass, disabling the panel after the fact. He hesitated for a split second and then bolted back up the stairs.

It was the longest fifteen minutes she'd ever experienced, but it passed. It passed and there was no sign of Clint returning.

"911 what's your emergency?"

"There's a... there's a prowler. I saw someone on the property," she managed.

"What's your location ma'am?" the operator asked, and Pepper rattled off the answer without missing a beat. "Are you safe?"

"Yes," Pepper said.

"Where are you at on the property?"

"I'm in the house."

"Where in the house?"

"I'm... " Pepper started to answer, but stopped herself. "Why does it matter? I'm in the house. I'm safe. I'm..."

"Ms. Potts," a new voice said, a man's voice she wasn't familiar with. "No one is going to hurt you. Please pass on this message to Director Fury. We have Agent Barton."

"Who is this?"

"He'll know," was the only answer she received before the call was disconnected.


	3. Part III

**Notes: **Let me stress again the warnings. Thank everyone for reading this and dropping reviews and favorite-ing/following (which are love) and say that this isn't the end of this series. I have plans. Evil, evil plans. Also... I hope I got this right.

* * *

_**Part III**_

Pepper stood frozen for several minutes uncertain what she could or should do when the nearest monitor beeped to life and the VTC started itself remotely.

"Pepper," Tony's voice called out, but she was still in shock. "Honey," he called, and she finally turned and saw, not just Tony, but Steve, Natasha and Agent Maria Hill on the screen. "Are you okay? Where's Barton?"

"I'm fine," she breathed, his words finally spurring her into action. "I'm... Clint got your call," she said, indicating Maria, "and then he... he brought me here and went to check the rest of the house. He said if he didn't come back..."

"Goddamn it," Natasha snapped, whipping around on Maria. "We shouldn't have waited. You should have just told him to get out of there. Or lock himself in. You should have just said who was coming."

"They were monitoring the call," Maria said, sounding exasperated, as if they'd been having this conversation for hours. "If I tried, they'd have cut the comm and gone in and probably taken them both. And then they'd have come for you and for me and probably Fury as well. We weren't supposed to know. We're still not supposed to know."

"And we don't know if they've picked him up," Steve said, trying to lessen the tension.

"Then where is he?" Natasha asked.

"They have him," Pepper said, shaking her head. She was trying desperately not to panic, but it was a close thing. "I called 911 like Clint told me to and they intercepted it. Whoever... Who are we talking about? I don't understand. A man told me to tell Director Fury but he didn't say who he was. He said he'd know. What is going on?"

Pepper looked to Tony for answers, but for the first time he didn't seem to have any. Steve looked equally as lost, like he'd only been given part of the information.

"I ran the tags like Barton asked," Maria said, taking a deep breath and steadying her nerves, "and just to be thorough, I ran the names I got back through a SHIELD outpost near LA. When I got into their network, I ran across Barton's name on a watch list. An active watch list that I probably wasn't supposed to see. Since he's been there, he's been tailed."

"Why is SHIELD watching their own agents?" Pepper asked, and Tony gave her a smile that all but told her that he'd asked the exact same thing.

"SHIELD watches everyone," Maria stressed, and it occurred to Pepper that that was the reason she was using Stark Tech instead of her own. "And, given events... I know Barton's not a threat. You know that. We all know that but... SHIELD has a Counter Espionage unit based on the west coast. Maybe it's all because of what happened in New York and they didn't feel like they got a proper debrief or maybe they really think they have something solid on him... I don't know. Technically, Barton was assigned to me after... They should have informed me before making a move."

"So, what does this mean? Do they think he's a traitor?" Pepper asked carefully. She didn't know if Clint wanting to leave SHIELD was enough to qualify him as one in their eyes, but she imagined it did. She also imagined Maria was not privy to that information at all, so they'd all have to tread carefully.

"Something like that," Maria answered. "I didn't read the whole file. They shut me out of it pretty quickly, but they think they have evidence that he's working for someone else now so..."

"Wait," Pepper said. "They just snatched him up and arrested him? Can they do that? Is that what happened? Is he being detained somewhere? And really, they couldn't come to the door? They couldn't just ask him to come in?"

"No," Natasha said, shaking her head solemnly. "That's not what's happening."

"Then..." Pepper started, but now everyone looking back at her had the same worried look.

"They took him in for interrogation," Maria finished. "It's the only explanation for not waiting to notify his chain of command."

"Interrogation," Pepper repeated slowly, and she understood.

They wouldn't just be talking.

"Why are we still standing here talking about this?" Natasha asked. The tight constraint she usually had to her voice was gone. "This isn't up for debate. We go, right now, and get him back."

"I'm in," Tony said readily.

"We can't do that," Maria objected.

"The hell I can't," Natasha returned.

"We aren't even supposed to know," Maria tried, again, to explain. "Are you not understanding what I mean by that? If they find out we've interfered or intercepted their calls, we'll be dragged in next."

"You just said they were supposed to notify you first," Tony bit back at her.

"And they didn't so they must suspect someone else close to Barton," Maria continued to explain, her voice steady but growing strained. "That's either Romanoff, myself or Fury."

"So we leave Clint to it?" Natasha fired back at her.

"No," Steve said, his own voice firm and resolute. "We don't. But what Agent Hill is saying is that if we rush in, before being officially notified, they'll not only suspect him more, but all of us as well. They'll think we're all involved and not only will we not be of any help to Clint, but we'll be left explaining why we were monitoring a SHIELD agency."

"Thank you," Maria sighed, relieved someone finally understood her viewpoint.

"And what if they don't notify us?" Tony asked.

"They have to," Maria answered, but she didn't sound as certain as she once had. "It's protocol. They can bring him in, they shouldn't, but they can. Anything more, they have to have approval."

"And if Fury has already approved it?" Natasha asked, knowing Maria would have that answer.

"He wouldn't," she answered, once more completely confident. "For God's sakes, Barton nearly crashed the Helicarrier and Director Fury still fought to keep him around. Have some faith. He knows which side Barton's on."

"I can't just sit here and wait," Natasha said, crossing her arms and looking on the verge of hitting someone or something.

"We don't have any choice," Maria said, but before Natasha could rebut that theory, Maria's phone rang. She gave the ID a strange look before answering, "Hill."

"Agent Hill," they all heard, looking at the monitor and surprised to see Pepper with her phone to her ear. "It's Pepper Potts. We've met a few times in New York."

"Yes, Ms. Potts," Maria said, completely normal, but the look she shot Pepper over the monitor clearly said, 'what the hell is going on?'.

"I wasn't sure who to call," Pepper continued, ignoring the VTC altogether now and determined to do this right. "Something strange has happened. I'm sure you know Agent Barton is here in LA with me, Director Fury approved his coming along on my trip to give Stark Industries some security pointers."

They needed cause to act; Pepper was going to give them cause to act.

"Yes, I was briefed on that," Maria answered, understanding what was happening. "I spoke with him earlier about some tags he wanted ran. Some trouble with photographers, right?"

"Yes, but now I think it's something more. After he got off the phone with you, he heard someone outside the house," Pepper said, and Tony couldn't help but smile at her, getting it now for himself as Pepper, more or less, ran down the story of Clint sending her to the workshop and telling her to call out for help in he didn't come back. Once she'd finished explaining the 911 call, Maria had enough probable cause to put her on hold and ask a SHIELD tech to run a trace. As they waited for that to be done, everyone certain where it would lead but having to play the part in case Maria's or Pepper's phone's were still tapped, she said, "I didn't have Director Fury's number, or I'd have called him myself."

The SHIELD tech talked briefly with Maria before she responded back to Pepper. Her tone was completely serious and as no nonsense as it had ever been, but on camera, she actually smiled.

"No, Ms. Potts," she said. "You've done exactly the right thing."

An hour or more after they'd finished their call and Fury had been properly notified by Agent Hill, Clint, not knowing where he was or remembering how he got there, tried to lift his head, but it felt heavy. His whole body felt heavy, but he had to try. Clint needed to see where he was and access the situation. He needed to get as much detail, as much information as he could, while he still could.

His ankles were shackled to the legs of the chair he was sitting on. His arms were pinned at his side, also shackled to the chair. A thick leather strap encircled his chest and forearms, further limiting his movement. The chair, he soon discovered, was bolted to the ground.

Wherever he was, they'd done this before.

Finally able to open his eyes, the lights were bright but once he'd adjusted and lifted his head, Clint saw own image reflected back at him.

At least he hadn't been beaten.

Yet.

Whatever they'd drugged him with was wearing off fast, and Clint breathed easier even if his head still felt muddled. He sat as still as he could, got as comfortable as he could, and tried to conserve his energy and relax.

The fact that he wasn't dead had to count for something. Phil had taught him that. If they didn't kill you right away, they wanted something. And if they wanted something, as long as they still wanted something, a person could stay alive. The trick was figuring out what they wanted so that you didn't inadvertently give it away. Natasha had taught him that.

The door behind him slammed shut and the fun, he knew, was about to begin.

"Agent Barton," a man's voice said and, in the mirror, Clint got a good look. He was tall and plain and wearing a suit. He was so average he practically blended into the background. After nearly a full minute of silence, the man evidentially expecting some form of acknowledgment Clint just wasn't going to provide, continued on, "You broke Agent Simon's nose."

The key, both Phil and Natasha had continuously stressed, was not to be confrontational when in these kinds of situations. Say only what needed to be said and nothing more. No matter what, Clint knew that he should not engage or enrage his captors.

"Was that the jackass who grabbed me from behind?"

He might need a refresher course.

"You went down easy enough," the other man taunted.

"What'd you hit me with? Something heavy," Clint returned. "Some kind of tranquilizer. You're sniper is pretty good."

"He should be," he said, coming around to face him directly and leaning against the side railing near the mirror. "You trained him."

Clint tipped his head back and shut his eyes for a moment, trying to think clearly. It had been a heavy dose even if it was wearing off, because he should have caught on immediately. The suit; the other 'agent'; this wasn't a hostile force.

This was SHIELD.

In a lot of ways, that made this easier. They weren't going to harm him. They probably wouldn't even hit him. They'd just want answers and that was the problem. If they hauled him in like this, they must think something was seriously amiss and that Clint was up to no good.

"I want to speak with Director Fury," Clint said, turning his eyes from the man before him and staring straight ahead at his own reflection.

"He's unavailable."

"I want to speak with Agent Hill," Clint returned without hesitation.

"Couldn't reach her. I am -"

"I don't care who you are," Clint interrupted, a little angry even though he knew he had to press that down. "I know procedure. You can't continue until my direct supervisor has been notified and is present. I'm owed that."

"Well, we tried notifying Agent Coulson but... there was no answer."

"I want to speak with Director Fury," Clint repeated, as calmly as he could, still refusing to meet the other man's eyes. If he got angry, he was giving them an excuse. That was more important now that he knew this was SHIELD than it had been before.

"No."

"I want to speak with Agent Hill."

"Let me tell you how this is going to happen," the man continued. "I am Agent Campbell. I think you know why you're here." When Clint refused to respond, he waited and then went on. "You need to just come clean, Barton. Tell us now and maybe we'll be lenient. This is your only chance."

Agent Campbell stood and stared at him until it became perfectly clear that Clint was not going to talk.

"Have it your way," Campbell said, but instead of approaching Clint, he tapped on the mirror and the room behind the glass lit up revealing a woman.

For half a second, Clint panicked, because he could not believe what he was seeing. For a second he saw the woman, saw Pepper, tied up with her back to him and he assumed the absolute worst. She was tied up the same way he was, struggling slightly and evidentially gagged as well. He saw it, but soon reconciled himself to the sight; to the lie.

Clint couldn't help himself. He laughed. He knew he shouldn't, that doing so was a mistake, but it was absurd. It was almost embarrassing to think that this was SHIELD.

"Do you think we're here for a good time, Agent Barton?" Campbell asked him, a flicker of annoyance passing over his features.

"Am I supposed to know that woman?" Clint returned. "Or did you read my file and assume that because I never finished high school that I was a drooling moron? I mean, I get that you think she looks like Pepper Potts, but come on," he finished, shaking his head disbelievingly. "There's no way in hell that anyone authorized an interrogation of Tony Stark's girlfriend, the goddamn CEO of Stark Industries. No way. If that had happened, Stark would already be here, punching a new skylight in your ceiling with his pretty little suit."

"This matter was serious enough -"

"Don't. Don't try and pass her off now. That's not her. She's too short. Her hair is too long and the it's wrong shade of red. Her skin tone is off; whoever that is, they're tan. Pepper is not. I mean, really? I was just with her. I'm a fucking sniper, a real-live agent of SHIELD, trained to notice those sorts of things," Clint finished more than a little affronted by this obvious ruse. Or he thought he had finished. "Plus, the shoes. Did you even do your homework? Have you ever even seen the woman? Pepper Potts runs in heels higher than those. I realize I've been drugged but... this is insulting."

Campbell dropped his head for a moment and the light flipped off so that Clint was staring at his own reflection again.

"Tell us what you know about HYDRA."

"Gladly," Clint answered, pausing just a moment before he tacked on, "as soon as Director Fury arrives."

"You really don't want to make this easy, do you?"

"I don't want to make this easy?" Clint fired back at him, all the humor gone from his voice. "You ambushed me. What? Did I drop out of the SHIELD directory? Did you lose my number? This is how you bring in agents to talk about organizations that have been dormant ten, twenty, hell... thirty years?"

"They're not dormant. They're very active, Agent Barton."

"Great. Why don't you go look for them then and leave me alone before this goes very badly."

"How's that?"

"Have you met Nick Fury?"

"Director Fury isn't here, Barton," Campbell snapped. "And he's not going to be here for quite some time. I think, by the time he does arrive, we'll have worked something out."

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that."

Clint dropped his eyes for half a second, and in that time Campbell pulled something from the inside pocket of his jacket.

"You can't do that," Clint said, really angry now that he saw the hypodermic needle. "I know procedure and..." But Campbell had already done it. In one swift movement he'd taken out the drug and injected it into the same spot the tranquilizer dart had hit earlier; high on his neck. Clint had just enough time to register why he'd do that; because there it wouldn't show. "You son of a..." Clint managed as he fought and lost the battle with consciousness.

When he woke, it was dark. At first Clint thought he'd been left alone in a dark room but quickly realized his mistake. It wasn't dark because the lights were off. After his eyes adjusted and slowly slid back into focus, he could see. It was dark because they'd thrown something, a mask or a bag of some sort, over his head.

The first thing he did was remind himself not to panic.

No one was going to hurt him. Campbell was an asshole, but he was still SHIELD. Fury would never authorize whatever it was this idiot had in mind. Clint would just have to be mildly uncomfortable for as long as it took a Quinjet to fly across the country. That was it.

The second thing he did was try to push past the pounding in his head.

For the first minute all he heard was the steady beat of blood rushing to his temples. It was a pulse really; a throb. Whatever they'd given him, twice now, it was strong and it was making him nauseous. The limited air the sack had to offer wasn't helping. Clint had to keep reminding himself that he couldn't throw up, especially now, once he realized he was no longer sitting up but laying flat on his back, although still heavily restrained. Or, if he really couldn't help himself from getting sick, at least he should try to wait for them to take the damn hood off so he could aim for Campbell.

"Sir," a new voice said, another man whose words sounded thick, like maybe he'd gotten punched in the face recently. Probably Agent Simon. "I think he's coming round."

"Good," Campbell chirped. "Are we ready?"

"You can't do this," another voice said, a woman this time. She sounded familiar, but that could be the drugs.

"I'm in charge here, Agent Morse," Campbell said firmly.

"This isn't procedure," the woman, Morse, bit back at him. He imagined she'd played the part of Pepper earlier. "We don't have any evidence that directly links Agent Barton to this operation. And, forgive me sir, but we don't know enough about this operation to question him."

"Was it not your suggestion that we bring him in?"

"For an inquiry, not for formal questioning. Not for an interrogation."

"Well, he refuses to answer."

"Maybe because he doesn't know anything," Morse said, her voice still firm and steady. "You've hardly explained yourself."

"He knows something," Campbell said with unshaken certainty. "And I'm going to find out what."

"All of his training has taught him not to talk," Morse tried to reason. "Until he sees a friendly face telling him it's okay... What do you expect? He doesn't know us and we're supposed to work together."

"Do you remember what division this is, Agent Morse?"

"I do," she answered quietly. "But..."

"But what?"

"You've never taken in an... an agent like Agent Barton. One of Director Fury's men. It's not the same. He's not going to answer you. You're not going to get anything from him. This is pointless and unnecessary."

"So what do you suggest?" Campbell asked, and even Clint, through a drug induced haze, could hear the condescension in his tone.

"The same thing I suggested before," Agent Morse said tersely. "Wait for Director Fury. Explain the situation to him. Let him ask Agent Barton. Let him decide."

"We're doing this my way."

"Then I'll have to file a formal complaint," Morse returned.

"Do that."

Clint expected to hear the sound of footsteps, possibly low-heeled footsteps, crossing the room followed by the slamming of a door, but he didn't. Morse, whoever she was, had obviously stood her ground. Was maybe still standing it, Clint couldn't see. But even he could feel the tension radiating around the room.

"You can't do this," she said, her voice low and menacing.

"Agent Simon," Campbell said. "Please escort Agent Morse from the interrogation room."

"Yes, sir," Simon returned, and Clint kind of wished he'd hit the man harder earlier in the night.

No one spoke after that for several long minutes, but the room was far from silent. Something was being set up, but Clint couldn't see what. He realized that this could all be a mind game. That they could be pretending to have some kind of lie detector test set up or worse in order to intimidate him into cooperating, but the way Agent Morse had sounded, he was doubtful. She sounded genuinely disturbed by whatever it was Campbell had in mind. Either that or she was a hell of an actress.

"Agent Barton," Campbell said after a few minutes more. "Can you hear me?" When Clint didn't answer, he ripped the hood from his head and glared down at him. "You need to come clean with us. We know the truth. We know you're working for HYDRA and that you have been for many years."

"I am not," Clint said firmly. "And I demand to speak to Director Fury."

"He's not coming."

"Then I demand to speak to Agent Hill. I'm owed that."

"You're owed nothing but what I give you."

"Then let's get this over with," Clint said, hoping to call the other man's bluff.

Clint knew that he really couldn't touch him. Or at least, he shouldn't. If Fury had okayed it, that would be a different matter, but he knew better than that. Fury, if he thought Clint was a traitor, would be right there in the room. He'd want to hear it for himself. He wouldn't let this be done by inferior men. And, for Fury, this sort of treatment was an absolute last resort. Fury wasn't above torture, but it wasn't his first plan, or usually even his second or third.

Procedure and protocol aside, no one strapped a man on his back unless he intended violence, which was fine. Clint had been beaten before. He'd been tortured before as well. It wouldn't be pleasant, but if he could keep it in his head that it would end, he'd be fine.

Clint was confident he'd be fine until Campbell 'accidentally' kicked his foot against a container at his feet. It was something just out of Clint's sight, whose contents sloshed and spilled onto the floor, just a little bit. Just enough.

"I've read your file, Barton," Campbell said menacingly. "You really go out of your way to stay out of the water, don't you? Why is that?"

"No reason."

"I think there is," Campbell sneered back at him. "So did Agent Coulson. You see, way, way back when you failed your first water safety practical exam, he wrote two words: undiagnosed aquaphobia. So I have to wonder, since it's never mentioned again... did you ever get treated for that?"

"Until Director Fury arrives," Clint said as calmly as he could, "I have nothing to say."

His face was a mask of indifference. There were no nervous tics or tells. Hell, Natasha and Phil would have been proud he hadn't told this numbskull to go fuck himself by this point. But they weren't here. And, on the inside, Clint was a riot of nerves. He knew what came next and he absolutely knew that Campbell would follow through. He had that look about him. Some men always did.

Clint's only sustaining thought was that he would not let Campbell know how much he was getting to him.

He would not speak. He would not yell. He would not fight, or cry, or beg.

It was all he could do.

"I guess we'll find out," Campbell said, but he didn't sound disappointed. He sounded gleeful as he pulled the hood back over Clint's head and barked an order at Agent Simon, ready to begin.

Clint braced himself, mentally, as best he could and it was barely enough. The water came too soon, too soon for him to catch a good breath. It felt hot, even though in reality it had probably been cold. Water always felt hotter to him than it actually was, a side effect from Miss Margery's early attempts to save him from a life of delinquency. He sputtered, and gagged, and gasped, he tried not to thrash about, but his body had a different idea. It reacted even as Clint tried not to.

It reacted as if he was dying.

He tried to keep telling himself that wasn't true. He wasn't going to die. This was temporary. This would pass.

It was something he clung to, desperately, in his head but...

Even with his eyes shut tight, even with the hood wet and clinging to his face, all Clint could see was pristine white tiles and all he could hear was a long gone voice saying in his head, 'It's for your own good.'

And then darkness.

When Director Fury arrived, accompanied by Agent Hill, it was nearly dawn. They'd found Clint where he'd been left, in one of the detention cells, having been cleaned up and drugged again. He was so insensible, at first, that he didn't recognize either of them, and may even have taken a halfhearted swing at Hill. It was all very blurry.

"Take it easy, Barton," she'd said, deflecting the jab easily. Maria didn't even sound mad, which she always kind of did. If anything she sounded sympathetic. Once it registered, Clint thought that might have been worse. "We're getting you out of here."

Fury had disappeared down the hall, but Clint could still hear him, so someone was getting an earful. Maria stayed behind and sat him upright. Firmly, she placed her hands on his face and tilted his head up so that she could look him in the eyes.

"Did they tell you what they gave you?" she asked.

"No," he mumbled as his eyes slid shut of their own accord.

"All right then," Maria said as she let go of him and began to rummage through a bag she'd brought in with her. "I'm going to take a blood sample."

"That's not..."

"Don't argue," she shot back at him, already swapping his arm and sticking him with the needle. "I'm already done," she finished, slapping on a bandage and then grabbing him firmly by the forearm. Unprepared and with a head full of haze, Clint flinched. "What's wrong?" Maria asked and when he only shrugged and shook his head for an answer, she took hold of his hands, getting a good look first at his wrists before pushing up his sleeve further up his arm for a better look there as well. "What did they do? Were you restrained?"

"They didn't..." Clint said, trying to keep the words straight in his head before they slipped from his mouth. "I was tied up. I resisted. That's it."

"That's some pretty serious resistance," Maria said shrewdly.

"Are you done?" he asked as he pulled from her grasp.

"Yeah. Come on," she said, offering him a hand up but, despite the weight in his stomach that all but screamed 'assistance is necessary', he declined and struggled to his feet on his own.

Clint really couldn't blame Maria for rolling her eyes at him for that one. It was a stupid decision based on pride that he immediately regretted, having nearly fallen back over once he was on his feet. But, instead of fighting with him over it, she took him by the elbow, steadied him, and lead him out the door. The hallway was surprisingly empty, except for Fury's voice drifting down it from some unnamed location, and it didn't take long until they were out of the building and into a waiting car.

"Barton," Maria said after a few minutes of silence. Evidentially they were waiting on the Director. Clint didn't mind. The fresh air had done him some good and his head was starting to clear. "You need to tell me what they did. Exactly what they did. I know it may not be something you want to talk about..."

"You don't know that."

"...but you need to tell me," Maria finished, ignoring his remark. "It's the only way we can file a report -"

"Stop," Clint said, interrupting her louder now than he had before. "A report? You think that's going to change..."

"It can get him removed from command," Maria reasoned. "Possibly jailed depending... depending upon the severity of the infraction."

Clint laughed because only SHIELD would say it like that. Only SHIELD would call torturing its own men an infraction. And really, only Hill could say it without a hint of irony. She lived in a world that was black and white, even after New York. Clint didn't know if he should feel sorry or envy for her.

He wished he could see it all that clearly again.

"What they did was wrong," Maria said and finally there was anger in her voice, which unfortunately only made Clint laugh harder.

"Because they didn't call you first?"

"No, Clint," she bit back at him, turning in her seat and facing forward again. "That's not why."

Clint's laughter died off with a sigh as he dropped his head back against the headrest. He was frustrated and mad and lashing out, and Maria was there so...

He knew she wasn't just angry about the failure of procedure that had taken place. Maria didn't like Clint, and Clint certainly didn't like Maria, but there had always been a grudging respect between the two of them. She was good at her job, damn good, and he'd never say otherwise, but Maria was so efficient it often came across as cold and uncaring. Clint had no real evidence to suspect that that wasn't the case, but it was unfair to assume it. Especially now when it really seemed as if she was genuinely concerned and not just doing her job.

"Listen, Maria," he said quietly, but she was still refusing to look his way. "I just want to forget all of this as soon as possible. Okay? Campbell is already going to get reprimanded for what happened. If," he stressed, "something else went on, then I'd be looking at another six rounds with the psych department and... and I'm pretty sure there's some reg out there somewhere that only allows agents so many visits a year."

"I'd find that story easier to believe if you hadn't ducked out of your mandatory visits the last time."

"Well..." he hemmed.

"Or, if the time before that you went and said absolutely nothing."

"So we agree that it's a waste of time."

"Damn it, Barton," Maria said, shaking her head but sounding more frustrated than angry, which was more normal for her. "You're going to let him get away with this shit because you don't want to talk about your feelings?" When Clint refused to respond, Maria rolled her eyes and let out a huff of air. "Fine. It's your call."

Clint knew it wasn't. Not really. But, Maria had to know she couldn't make him talk about it if he didn't want to.

If Agent Campbell hadn't been able to get him to admit to anything, true or false, with all of his advanced techniques, Agent Hill, armed only with her infallible righteousness, certainly could not.

That in mind, Clint allowed himself to shut his eyes and opened them only once Director Fury had given him a firm shake.

"Agent Hill tells me you'd rather skip medical," Fury said. "I told her that was out of the question, but she was rather insistent. She also thought you might not want to stay onsite so we brought you here." Clint took a moment and scanned his surroundings, easily recognizing the place as Stark's mansion back in Malibu. The sun was just coming up and Clint's whole body ached. "Was she right?" Fury asked after another pause.

"Yes, sir," he answered, sitting up straighter and ready to go inside. "Thanks," Clint said, his eyes briefly meeting Maria's in what usually passed as an apology between them.

She nodded and he felt free to keep disliking her, despite her good deeds, as she would no doubt keep disliking him. If Clint had planned on sticking around SHIELD for any longer he realized Maria wouldn't make a half bad handler, but after tonight his mind was firmly set against that. He had waivered before, had gone back on forth over the pros and cons of the situation, but after this he couldn't stay. Clint couldn't trust but three or four people, in total, out of the whole operation, any longer. It was something to admit, even to himself, that Maria was one of those people, and she would undoubtedly be pissed when she found out the truth, but he also thought she'd understand why.

How could anyone expect Clint to keep working for an organization that might, at any time, drag him away, lock him up, keep him without cause, or more? What was to stop them from declaring him a threat? From even putting a bullet in the back of his head?

But that chance had always been there, he knew that. He'd just been ignoring it. Phil had largely kept him and Natasha sheltered from the worst of it; he'd had a lot of influence but that protection was gone now.

Satisfied, Fury got out of the car first, followed by Clint, and then Maria. Without preamble, Fury led the way up the drive and straight into the house where Clint found three different kinds of worry etched on the people gathered in the front room. Tony, Pepper and Steve were all there, none of them looking as if they'd slept a wink.

"You said you'd call," Pepper said immediately, and she would have rushed forward to inspect Clint for herself had Tony not stopped her.

It was subtly done, Clint noted. Tony just gently reached out and slid his hand down her arm into her own hand, and held her in place as he said, "Or at least knock. This is my house, remember? I don't recall handing out keys."

Clint wasn't fooled by his joke. Tony had to have known, at least a little bit, what had happened that night. They all probably had a good guess, judging by their stares, and even if they didn't, they all knew it was serious. Tony hadn't stopped Pepper so that he could take a not-so-subtle dig at Fury, he'd done it because he'd been in Clint's position. Tony knew what the fallout was like, and how little a person wanted to be touched afterwards unless specifically invited. Tony wouldn't know the details, and Clint wouldn't be providing those to anyone, but torture was torture and that was all he needed to unofficially know.

"How are you?" Steve asked.

"Tired," Clint allowed, carefully not to fidget too much or do anything to try and hide the bruises he knew were beginning to show on his wrists. If he hid his hands, Tony and Steve would both pick up on it. His forearms and chest, Clint was certain were also marked, along with his ankles and thighs, but those bruises were hidden by his clothes. Clint didn't realize he'd fought as hard as he had against the restraints, but that had been an involuntary reaction. When your body thought it was dying, it rebelled.

"But you're not..." Pepper started to say, but she seemed to have caught on to Tony as well, and didn't finish.

"I'm fine," Clint lied, a little too easily for his own taste. "Sorry if... if any of that scared you last night. I wasn't sure what was happening."

"When you heard the prowler?" Pepper supplied quickly, not sure how much information Director Fury had or didn't have at the moment.

"Ms. Potts," Fury said with a weary smile. "Please. We all know what happened. Agent Hill caught me up on the ride here." After they'd gotten on their way, they'd received a very informative call from a field agent actually assigned to the case. She'd told them everything she knew, more or less, and given them an exact location that the tech who had reverse tapped the line used to intercept Pepper's call had failed to get. "Barton, any idea why they think you're working for HYDRA?"

"None," Clint said, and this time it wasn't a lie. "I've never even dealt with HYDRA. Never had a mission or... or anything." But as he said it, he realized that wasn't exactly true. "Well, beside..."

"Agent Romanoff," Fury provided with a nod.

"You did bring her in," Maria provided.

"Eight years ago," Clint said. "And so what? She had past dealings with them but she wasn't in the organization. She's given information on people and places inside the group to SHIELD."

"That never pan out," Maria returned, not because she was trying to argue with him, but because she really believed in presenting all sides.

"Because they're defunct," Clint said.

"Agents," Fury interrupted. "Another time."

"Great," Clint said, rubbing his head. He had a massive headache and couldn't keep this up any longer, this sham that he really was okay. "Can we go over all this later? Sir?," he added, realizing he was still talking to the Director.

"Fourteen hundred," Fury said with a firm nod. "I'll be back for a debrief."

"Can't wait," Clint mumbled, not bothering to stick around. He bypassed everyone else in the room and headed straight for the one he'd been staying in all week.

As soon as he arrived, he locked the door behind him and then, thinking that wasn't enough to deter Tony, he shoved a nearby chair under the doorknob as well. Clint took out a fresh set of clothes and knew that he probably should shower, but couldn't stomach the idea of it. At the moment, even splashing water on his face from the sink didn't seem like a possibility. A simple change would have to suffice.

Clint then shut the shades on the windows, the light had been growing steadily stronger, and propped up a few pillows before laying down on the bed. Picking up his SHIELD issued phone, Clint knew the number he wanted to dial but also knew it was a very bad idea. His line was likely still being monitored. Hers as well.

He realized he could probably reach her through Stark's tech, but he didn't want to go back out there. Fury and Hill were probably gone and Tony, Steve and Pepper would be much freer with the questions without them present.

If only the mansion had an intercom system.

"Jarvis?" Clint asked tentatively, looking up at the ceiling the way he always did when he addressed the AI.

_"Yes, Mr. Barton?"_

"Tony really takes you everywhere."

_"I am indispensable, yes."_

"Can you do me a favor?"

Clint relayed his request and a few minutes passed before there was a tap at the door.

"Special delivery," Tony called, having tried the doorknob without luck. "Barton. Open up. Got you a phone." Clint looked at the door for a moment, realizing that of course he'd have to open it, Tony was already doing him a favor lending it to him and letting him stay at his house, amongst other things. "I can just leave it out here," Tony said after a moment, "but I'd feel better about that if you at least said something. Anything. You're choice."

"Sorry," Clint said, cracking open the door and feeling like a fool. "I'm just not..."

"Understandable," Tony returned, cracking a small smile as he handed the phone to him.

"Yeah, well... Hey, tell Pepper -"

"Stop," Tony interrupted quickly. "You already told her. It's not your fault. She doesn't blame you. End of discussion."

"Okay," Clint nodded, too exhausted to fight. "Thanks again for the phone."

"Tell Natasha I said hi," Tony said, turning to go. "And, I'm sure she'll tell you this herself, but just in case, she wanted to come. She even got on the plane but Fury wouldn't have it. Oh and Bruce and Thor... well, Bruce isn't big on travel and we still can't convince Thor the jets are entirely shipshape so... they send their best and look forward to seeing you back in New York." Clint offered him a half a smile in return and nodded his head in acknowledgement as Tony walked away. "If you need anything," he called over his shoulder, "send Jarvis. He likes that sort of thing."

Phone in hand, Clint shut the door but this time he only locked it, not bothering with the chair. Back on the bed, he dialed up the number to Tony's VTC back at the Tower and waited, somehow knowing she'd be waiting there to answer.

"Hey," Natasha answered, looking strained as the line connected.

"Hill already call you?" Clint asked, holding the phone as steady as he could so that the camera captured his face.

"About an hour ago. Said you were sleeping."

"Car ride," he confirmed.

"How are you?"

"I'm..." he paused, considering his words carefully for a moment. "I'm right as rain."

Natasha's eyes dropped for a moment and nodded, understanding. Another code between them. Another indicator that things were very wrong, even if the words and tone said otherwise.

"I wanted to come," she finally said.

"I know," he said quickly. "Tony told me. There's nothing you could have done here. It's fine. Really."

"I'm glad you called."

"You are?" he asked, still wondering why he'd done it. It had to have been habit, a bad one that he had to break. Nothing was going to happen between them and he had to start needing her less. Clint had to or else he'd never move on. He couldn't and wouldn't cut her out completely, Natasha would always be part of his life, but he couldn't keep holding on to nothing.

"I was worried," she admitted.

"It wasn't..." he started to say, but the lie caught in his throat. Even if things were bad between them, he should be able to tell her the truth. Clint settled for a half-truth. "It's over. It's done and I'm here. I'm still here."

"What did they do?" she asked, but her tone was no longer soft or concerned. It was hard. And angry. Clint really expected nothing less. This was her at work. This was business.

"They ask you to find out?"

"No," she answered, her voice firm with a bit of edge to it. Like it was a question he didn't have to ask. On the surface, it wasn't an offensive question, but his tone had suggested that Natasha was in on something larger, against Clint. That she would try to pry information out of him unwillingly for someone else.

"I'm tired. I'm..." Clint tried to apologize, but never got further than that. "Even if they had asked, you wouldn't tell them. I know that," he stammered. "I don't know why I called."

"I'm glad you did," Natasha repeated.

"I needed to hear your voice," he admitted, hating himself a little bit for being so weak, but that was the truth of it.

Natasha's mouth twitched, she almost smiled as she said, "Me, too."

"All right," Clint said, dropping his own eyes from the screen as he bit his lip to keep from saying more. Continuing on in what he hoped was a casual tone, "I'm going to get some sleep. Fury's coming back this afternoon. That should be fun. And, you know, maybe this whole thing will get me out of that fundraiser tonight."

"I wouldn't count on that," Natasha returned, sounding more like her normal self.

"You're probably right."

"I usual am."

"I know," Clint said, smiling, really, for the first time.

"Get some rest and... and call me, again. If you need to."

"Thanks," he said, ending the call there.

Clint set the phone down on the nightstand and then shut his own eyes. Thankful to be so tired that sleep came almost immediately and that he didn't have to keep thinking; so tired that it was heavy, dreamless sleep as well.

He stayed in bed only a few hours, unable to make even that exhausted sleep last, and woke up cranky before noon to a nearly empty house. Pepper and Tony had evidentially gone into the office, Happy was out running errands for the evening, which left Clint and Steve alone. Clint went straight to the kitchen, filled a mug with some lukewarm coffee and headed out to the patio where Steve was busy sketching the coastline.

He didn't want to talk, but Clint also didn't want it to appear as if he was avoiding everyone. If he could have gotten away with that, he would have; if he'd known them all a little less than he did, he would have. As it stood, Clint felt he owed all of them something. In the very least, the acknowledgement that he appreciated their support.

Still, when Steve didn't immediately set in with questions or small talk, it was a relief.

Steve seemed content to sit silently and work while Clint was content to sit silently and read.

An entire hour passed before they were interrupted by Tony's arrival. As soon as the door opened behind them, Steve flipped the cover down on his sketch book and at the same time Clint shut his book, both of them knowing that Tony would absolutely need to talk. That was just Tony's way.

"Everyone ready for tonight?" Tony asked as he took the longue chair in between them. "Suits? Ties? Shoes? All set? There's still time. Not to back out," he added quickly, seeing Steve ready to interrupt. "You're going. Both of you are going."

"Okay then," Steve shrugged.

"I'm good," Clint said.

"Are you?" Tony asked, turning slightly to face him directly and Clint knew he was no longer talking about the fundraiser. "But, wait," Tony continued, almost immediately, "before you answer that... Pepper and I have talked." During the abnormal pause Tony took, Clint's heart nearly stopped, afraid of the conversation that was undoubtedly to follow. "She mentioned that you might be having second or third or even fourth thoughts about leaving SHIELD and coming to work for me. And while I might end up taking that personally, if it's what you want, Clint... I'm not trying to force you to leave. If you're more comfortable with SHIELD, if the time isn't right, if... if for any reason," he stressed, "you need to stay, then stay. We'll work something out with the Avengers. We're going to have to anyway to keep Red around."

"The idea was never to cut out SHIELD completely," Steve interjected.

"It wasn't," Tony agreed. "We just felt that they shouldn't be in control of it. That it should be more of a joint effort."

"Okay, okay," Clint said, finally finding his voice after he realized that this wasn't what he thought it would be about. "You can stop there because... Yes, I had doubts. Yes, I was going back and forth about what to do. I thought it would be easier to make a decision, and it wasn't. Not at first. Now though..." Clint stopped and let out a low breath. "I'm not going to talk about what happened last night. I don't want to talk about it. I don't need to talk about it. After Fury runs me through whatever debrief he needs to, I'm just going to forget it." He paused to let that sink in. "All I'm going to say to you both is that after last night I can't stay with SHIELD. I can't trust the organization. I believe Director Fury has the right idea. I trust Hill to do the right thing. Natasha is not going to leave, but I know her and I will support her, no matter what. But things have changed in SHIELD since New York. Maybe they were changing before that and I just didn't see it. Whatever it is, I can't work for them any longer. I can't do my job and worry about who's watching my back."

"You realize though..." Steve started to say, but Clint was already nodding.

"I know. We'll be working with them. With not for. I can do that."

"Okay then," Tony said after giving it a moment of thought. "I'm taking this to mean the sooner the better?"

"Yes," Clint confirmed.

"We'll start working on it as soon as we're back in New York then."

"Thanks."

"Great," Tony said, slapping his hands on his knees before rising to his feet. "That's settled. Let's get lunch."

"I'm actually supposed to wait here for Fury."

"Then we'll order lunch," Tony shrugged. "We can do that. Easy."

As Tony wandered back into the house, Steve and Clint locked eyes.

"We should probably help," Steve started to say with just a hint of a smile. They were both remembering the only time Tony had ordered a meal for the Tower.

"We should definitely help," Clint concurred.

After lunch, which Clint and Steve intervened in time so that they ended with enough to feed the three of them not three houses worth of people, Director Fury and Agent Hill arrived. Tony offered up his private office for use and resisted the urge to eavesdrop. However, as short as the meeting was, he doubted there had been much to hear. And as it turned out Clint and Maria were plenty loud enough to be heard from two rooms away.

Tony knew the situation was serious, but it was kind of amusing; or at least it would have been under normal circumstances. If he hadn't just heard Clint say that he did trust Maria, if he hadn't seen firsthand proof that Clint had respect for how Maria did her job, if he didn't know exactly why Clint was leaving SHIELD, Tony would have sworn she was the sole reason. The two of them just did not mix well. He'd never seen two people argue more over absolutely nothing and then end up walking away in agreement time after time. It had to be frustrating for both of them but it seemed like the only way they could work together.

This time, Tony understood her frustration. He felt that frustration himself, because he did want to know what had happened and not just out of his own endless curiosity, but Clint was stonewalling everyone.

Less than twenty minutes after they arrived, Fury and Hill left and Clint retreated back to his room where he remained until it was nearly time to leave for the fundraiser. Even then Clint only left out of desperation. Tony would often purposely mess up his bow tie in order to get Pepper's help; Clint was truly clueless.

"You look nice," Pepper said as she gave him a hand, trying to be cheerful and push from her mind everything he'd said to her the night before at dinner and everything she suspected had happened after that dinner.

"Thank you," he returned, sensing her unease and not quite able to meet her eyes.

"Oh, so it's just Clint then?" Tony asked with a smirk.

"Steve looks nice, too."

"Thank you, Pepper," Steve returned pleasantly. "You look lovely as well."

"Okay, okay," Tony said, shaking his head, but still smiling. "Enough with the nice talk. We're all beautiful people. Let's go. Rhodey is meeting us there and the party has already started."

The ride there was a quick one, Pepper more than determined to keep the conversation light and with Tony's help, easily managing that feat. Once they arrived the four of them ended up splitting up out of necessity. Pepper and Tony were called away almost immediately to meet and greet various guests, leaving Steve and Clint to more or less hang out.

"What are we supposed to do at this thing?" Steve finally asked after a good ten minutes had passed and they both ended up shuffling to the farthest corner.

"I honestly have no idea," Clint answered, making Steve laugh.

They ended up talking in general about what had been happening over the week. Steve wanted to hear everything he could about how Pepper had figured out Clint had been assigned as her bodyguard, a story he found highly amusing. But even as they spoke and laughed together, Clint couldn't keep from scanning the room remembering clearly that there had been an unnamed woman in the room with him last night that was probably in the room with him again now.

Agent Morse, whoever she was, was likely a plant inside Stark Industries. He'd argued with Fury and Hill hours earlier that Tony and Pepper both deserved to know that information, but had been ordered not to tell them. If she was or wasn't, they'd both agreed, was of no real concern. She was likely only there to protect Stark's interests, as misguided as those attempts had been. To leak that information now would only further the Counter Espionage unit's case against Clint.

Clint did not feel the same.

He'd already come up with a few ideas who he thought she might be, based solely on who he'd met during the week. Scanning the room, he finally spotted her and it felt right.

"Excuse me," he said to Steve. "I need to talk to someone."

Steve followed Clint's eyes across the room and looked perplexed by who he was looking at, but didn't stop him. A few minutes of shuffling across the crowded space and he was there, his eyes shifting from person to person in the small group gathered, talking business but mostly happy to see him.

"Clint," Beth said with a bright smile. "I thought you'd come."

"Pepper's very persistent," he said as pleasantly as he could.

"So you like persistence?" she asked with a smile.

"I do," he returned, and she smiled brighter at him.

"Oh," Beth continued, afraid she'd been rude, "you know everyone here, right? Ian. Rebecca. Did you meet Marty?"

"I don't think I have met Mary, but yes," Clint answered with a nod, "I know everyone else." He paused for a moment, his eyes momentarily flicking down, "Nice shoes," he directed at Rebecca. "I thought most women wore higher heels to these kinds of things."

"Too hard to run in," she returned with a straight face and without a doubt he'd been right.

"Want to grab a drink?" he asked her, too afraid she'd slip away if he didn't confront her now and ignoring Beth's look of irritation.

"All right," Rebecca, well, Agent Morse returned, giving him a weak smile as she let him lead her away, but they weren't headed for the bar.

Clint put a firm hand on her waist and steered her out a side door, eventually finding a semi-secluded spot on the balcony.

"Watch the hands," she snapped, her voice losing all the meekness he'd associated with 'Rebecca' and sounding much more like the woman he'd heard last night. Clint ignored her, continuing to pat her sides, unable to determine what weapon she had, but certain she had something stitched into the boning of her dress. "They're staves," she said. "Relax, Barton. I'm not wired."

"Sure you aren't," he said before shaking his head and adding, "Staves? Really?" as it dawned on him that she basically admitted to fighting with sticks.

"A bow? Really?" she snit at him.

"Fair enough," he fired back, "but I don't care if you are wired."

"You should."

"Still convinced I'm working for the bad guys?"

"That was not my call," she said firmly, her eyes darting off towards the sound of some nearby passer-bys. As they got closer, she let out a flirty giggle and leaned into him so that they appeared to be a couple that had wandered off for some privacy. Clint kept his hands on her lower back and looked her in eyes, realizing for the first time that she was very attractive. He just hadn't noticed before because she'd done such a good job of fading into the background. "But what happened," she said after a pause, once they were alone again. "It was wrong and I'm sorry. I didn't know Campbell would do that when I told him I thought you might have information."

"Sure you didn't."

"You heard me object. You heard me try and stop him."

"You didn't try very hard," Clint said coldly. "And, sorry if I don't just take your word for it."

"You heard -"

"An act," Clint interrupted. "A well played one, but it was an act. The two of you fight in order to show me that you're on my side. We casually bump into each other, you make sure I recognize you despite the cover, and then you have an in. After all, you stood up for me. You were the one that objected. So, you get close, get me to open up and spill my secrets and then I'm right back in the hot seat. Right where you and Campbell want me. It's not happening."

"In case you weren't paying attention to your own imaginary soap opera, in that scenario, I approach you, but tonight you tracked me down."

"You wore the same shoes, Agent Morse," Clint said evenly. "We run in a very small circle here. At some point tonight, we'd have met. And I'd have noticed those shoes because you wanted me to notice them. I'm not some guy off the street. I've done this and I've seen it done a thousand times before by agents a lot better than you. You're going to have to try harder."

"Bobbi."

"What?"

"My name. You keep calling me Agent Morse. My name is Bobbi."

"I don't want to know your name," he said, growing angry despite himself and just the tiniest bit flustered. "I don't care."

"I'm trying to be fair. I know yours so..."

Clint opened his mouth to say something probably mean and more likely foul, but stopped himself just in time. There was another possible reason for her to so obviously break her cover: because she wanted to. It was a real possibility that Agent Morse, Bobbi, wanted out of this assignment after witnessing the lengths Campbell was willing to go to. And, Clint knew, the only way out of an assignment was to complete the mission or have your cover blown.

She could easily say that they had ran into one another at the fundraiser and he'd recognized her voice. She didn't even have to admit to wearing the same shoes she'd worn the night before. No one in their right mind would even ask that question.

It was kind of brilliant, if it was what she was doing, but he had no proof either way.

"Listen," he said, finally resolved to just go with this, whatever it might be, "I know who you are now. I was told, ordered actually, not to go looking for you. And, I didn't. I just happened to see you. Heard your voice and knew."

"Sounds about right."

"Good," Clint nodded, feeling only slightly better as he took a deep breath and a small step back. "So this is what you need to do. You have to resign."

"Resign?"

"From Stark Industries, Rebecca."

"Oh," she nodded. "Well... I don't see how staying undercover here would help me any longer. Even if your handler hadn't ordered you not to say anything, given the circumstances, we can't trust that to be enough. You know who I am and why I'm here."

"Why were you here?" he interrupted their pretend conversation. Because this was pretend. They were only going through the motions of discovery now.

"You were told why."

"I wasn't told anything," he objected.

"HYDRA," Bobbi said, lowering her voice as she spoke. "There are reports you could read. They aren't hard to find."

Clint nodded and knew she wouldn't be telling him any more than that. "Fine," he said.

"I trust you won't be telling your new friends who I really am."

"I won't say anything," Clint assured her, stressing the third word to get his point across. He wouldn't have to say anything. Enough people had seen them disappear together. Pepper was a smart lady. When they rejoined the party and 'Rebecca' suddenly quits, she'll put it together.

"Thank you for that."

"Just doing my job," he said, ushering her back toward the main ballroom.

"I was too, you know."

"That doesn't make it right," he said with a sullen shake of his head.

"No," she agreed. "Nothing will make what happened right. I am sorry. I did try and stop him."

"Well," Clint sighed, "next time try hitting him with those sticks of yours."

"Maybe I will. Watch yourself, Barton" Bobbie returned with a wink, as she pulled open the door and moved quickly away from him and off in Pepper's generally direction.

Clint smiled, stopping just inside the door himself and taking a good look around the room. Steve was still in his corner, but he had company now. Apparently Beth's affection was fleeting, very fleeting, as she was doing her best to engage Steve in any kind of conversation.

"He's hopeless, really," Tony said, slinging an arm around Clint and pulling him off in the opposite direction. "I should go rescue him from her, Beth's notorious, but it's too much fun to watch."

"Better him than me," Clint said as they stopped at the bar. He hadn't wanted a drink earlier, but now he did.

"I understand it was you earlier this week," Tony said with a leer.

"Yeah, well, I've resigned myself to the fact that, in our group, I'm going to be second or third choice on my good days. And today... not a good day."

"You're looking at it wrong," Tony argued. "I'm off the market. Thor's pretty well besotted with young Dr. Foster. Bruce is a hermit so..."

"So it's me or Captain America?" Clint asked sarcastically. "I think you just made my point ."

"I'm sure there will be plenty of groupies for the two of you to share."

"We're not some kind of rock band, Tony," Clint laughed. "And I'm really not interested."

"Not yet," the other man amended. "Oh, hey," Tony said, spotting Steve looking their way from across the room. "He's waving at us."

Clint and Tony both watched with nearly identical grins as Steve was obviously not waving, but signaling for assistance. Being good friends, they did what any good friends would do. They both lifted their glasses to him, as if to toast his good fortune, before turning back around again to the bartender.

"He's going to kill us for that," Clint said mildly before he took a sip from his drink.

"No he won't," Tony argued. "He's Captain America. We may get a mild talking-to, but he won't actually kill us."

"I really don't think it's going to be that mild," Clint laughed.

"Hey," Pepper said, sliding an arm around Tony's waist as she joined the two of them and giving Clint a curious look, "Rebecca Moore just quit. Said she was offered a new job this afternoon and it really couldn't wait."

"Rebecca Moore?" Tony puzzled. "Bio-something department, right?"

"That's a shame," Clint said, looking down into his glass. "An employee like that only comes along once or twice if you're really lucky. What was she? Some kind of assistant?"

Tony picked up on it almost immediately, his whole face lighting up at the allusion to Natasha's own stint inside of Stark Industries. Pepper's own understanding of the real situation came right behind Tony's own.

"Was she responsible for what happened?" Pepper asked, and it was the only time Clint had ever heard her sound, not only angry, but mean.

"No," Clint said, surprised by how quickly the lie came from his lips.

"Who is she really?" Tony asked, knowing that the name had to be a fake.

"I can't say," Clint answered, more truthful this time. "Fury has ordered me not to talk about it. Or her. Or anything that happened. Not that I want to. It's not important. What is important is that she's gone. And that you really, really need a better screening process."

"I'm sure we'll be hiring someone soon to help me with that," Pepper said pointedly.

"I've heard that you will," Clint returned with a smile.

A few more hours were spent at the venue before they called it a night. Tony was a lot more fun to hang out with when he wasn't prying into Clint's personal life. And Clint couldn't say enough positive things about Pepper. Steve he knew had his own sense of humor, and when he wasn't busy being very serious, which Clint figured was a generational thing, he was rather easy to get along with. Although he really wasn't happy they'd left him to deal with a very hands-on Beth Smith on his own, Tony was right, it was good for him.

Back at the mansion everyone was ready to retire for the night, Clint especially. He hadn't slept much in the past few days and even if the only thing they had planned for the next day was a return trip to New York, he knew he needed to sleep. Sleep he'd be lucky to get; tonight he wasn't tired enough for his sleep to be dreamless and he knew it. And Clint really needed at least four hours of solid sleep to function, it was a known fact.

Opening the door to his room he stopped cold when he realized the light was already on.

"You clean up nice."

Clint smiled as he pushed the door closed behind him. "Do I?" he asked.

"I'm starting to wonder why we weren't sending you in to seduce the mark," Natasha finished, smiling back at him as she crossed the room and playfully tugged on his tie with a questioning expression.

"Pepper helped."

"With the tie or the whole suit?"

"Both," Clint answered, his hands moving to her shoulders and giving her a gentle squeeze.

He was surprised to see her, but in the best way.

"It's a good look for you," she said, pulling the tie undone.

"Too limiting," he said, unable to keep from touching her and hardly believing she was really there. "Not very practical for the job."

"Just as well then," Natasha said, dragging his tie free and letting it drop to the floor before wrapping her arms around his midsection. "How are you?" she said, finally getting to why she was there; he'd known why. "You look better. If I'd have realized that, I'd have saved myself the flight."

"I thought Fury told you not to come?"

"He said I couldn't go on the Quinjet," she answered. "And I didn't. Tony lent me his. Now answer my question."

"I'm okay."

"Okay in the way you are always okay when you don't want to answer a question or actually okay?

"Both."

"You can't be both," she said, pushing his jacket down his shoulders before tugging it off for him.

"What are you doing?" he asked, not really objecting or stopping her, only watching as Natasha began to unbutton his shirt.

"I want to see you."

Clint nodded and understood. She thought he was lying, which to be fair he was, and Natasha wanted visual proof that he hadn't been harmed. "I've got it," he said, taking over for her, because trying to talk her out of it would only make her go about it an entirely different way. Stripped down as much as he was going to, in his undershirt and pants, he held up his hands and gestured for her to take a look. "I told you I'm fine."

"What's this then?" she asked, running her hands gently over the bruises on his forearms.

"I resisted the restraints."

"And these?" she asked taking hold of his wrists and holding them up to his own eyes.

"The restraints, Tasha," he sighed, momentarily taking her hands into his own and squeezing them before letting go again. "Do you think they just strapped me down at the chest?"

"Fine. Now drop them."

"Drop... No," he snapped. "I'm not taking off my pants."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Now, Barton, or I'll take them off for you," she threatened.

"I'm not -"

"Do I have to remind you that you once demanded to see my ass?"

"For medical reasons. You were shot."

"I was grazed."

"And I couldn't know that until you showed me," he finished, throwing his head back and muttering several colorful curses into the air. Neither Clint nor Natasha liked receiving medical attention so, because of the ass-grazing incident, they'd both agreed to show one another their wounds so an impartial decision as to the seriousness of the situation could be made. And although an argument could be made that neither of them were exactly impartial, mostly it had worked. "Fine," he spit out, looking mutinous as he slipped out of his shoes and started undoing his belt. "This is ridiculous. I wasn't shot. I wasn't even hit but if you're going to insist..."

"I am."

"...then fine. Take a look," he finished as he dropped his pants.

"Why'd they strap you above the knee?" she asked after looking him over for a minute, the wheels in her head clearly turning.

"I have no idea. I guess," he lied, stretching for time to think, "they thought I'd find a way to get free if they didn't."

"Okay," she said, giving him a nod as if satisfied. "Sorry if I overreacted but... I was worried."

"I know you were," he returned quietly.

"Why don't you go shower and change while I get dressed out here," she said, tipping her head towards the bathroom as she began to rummage through her bag. "You don't mind sharing a room, do you?"

"Um," he said, stepping out of the pants entirely and refusing to look up at her. "Sure. No, we can share," he said slowly, partially relieved to not have to sleep alone. Clint was certain that alone he wouldn't get any sleep, but also knowing there was no way he was going to be able to shower just yet. He'd managed so far by sponge bathing, which wasn't going to work forever. And it certainly wasn't going to work with Natasha in the next room. "Are you okay with that?" Clint tried instead, hoping that the ups and downs between them, especially as of late, might be enough to make her rethink the situation.

"Of course I am."

Clint nodded, knowing that should would be. If he knew Natasha, and he really did, she considered herself still in his debt. She owed him and come hell or high water, she intended to pay him back. He'd just helped her through a rough patch, complete with nightmares, without any hesitation once he'd known the problem; she'd do no less for him.

Awkwardness be damned.

He hadn't mistaken all her casual flirting for a change of heart, Natasha had only been trying to give him something normal to latch on to.

It was this easy back and forth that made them both so very screwed up, if he was being honest.

"Clint?" she urged and he realized he was still standing there, sans pants, staring at the bathroom door. "Is there a problem?" Natasha added, and for a moment she looked as if she expected to be asked to leave. Or told to go to hell. Or both.

Clint considered it for half a second before sighing. "I can't... I can't do it," he said, pointing useless at the other room. "Tasha," he said, finally turning to her and stopping because he didn't have to go on. He saw it in her eyes that she knew. "How?"

"They only strap you above the knees if you're prone," she answered. "And if you're prone... They have your file. They'd know what would work best."

Clint nodded. It was frightening how simple it all had been. How easy it had been for her to jump to that conclusion. How hard it still was to admit.

He hated feeling helpless.

Natasha dropped her bag on the floor before moving to pull him into her arms. Clint only hesitated for a moment before letting himself relax and wrapping his own arms around her waist.

"We'll work out showering later," Natasha said firmly, letting go long enough to lead him to the bed. "Let's just get through tonight and take the rest from there."

"Okay," he agreed, feeling dazed as she stripped down to her underwear and turned down the covers. "But... okay, wait," he said, taking hold of her by the wrist and demanding her attention. "I don't want you to read into this..."

"Read into what?" she asked.

Clint answered her by placing his hands gently on her sides of her face and titling her head up towards his own, meeting her lips with his. It was short but meaningful, because he did mean it. Absolutely and without a doubt. "I needed to get that out of the way," he explained after he'd broken away, "or else I might try it later and really wreck things, more than I have."

"You haven't done anything wrong, Clint. I never wanted you to think that. I just wanted you to..."

"Stop being in love with you?"

"Yes," she answered honestly.

"That's why I love you," he laughed and she shook her head at him. "I know you don't want to hear it and I'm not going to say it again. Except right now. I love you. That's it. But you don't owe it to me to return that if you can't. I'm not a child. I know that if you don't, you don't. And I'm working on it but..."

"We don't need to do this now," she said dropping her eyes and moving out of his arms.

Clint got the message. They didn't need to do this now, or ever really. Natasha wasn't going to change her mind.

It was probably for the best.

Without saying more, Clint got into bed, shifting a few of the pillows so that they divided the bed evenly. Natasha climbed in on her side and shook her head, picking up and tossing the makeshift wall onto the floor.

"I think we're past that point," she said with a hint of a smile, before she shut of the lamp and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close.

Natasha ran one hand through his hair as she felt Clint sigh and relax against her, the other hand rubbing soft, if not irregular, circles across his back. He didn't say any more and she really didn't expect him to. He needed to sleep and more importantly to feel safe again. Natasha could do that, even if she couldn't do any more.

Eventually his breathing grew steady and slow. His body grew less tense and Clint slowly sunk into a deep sleep. Natasha stayed awake a little longer than he had, still running her fingers through his hair as she thought over the words he'd said. She realized that it had been the first time they'd shared a kiss that she hadn't initiated, but she couldn't let that change her mind.

It was the only way. The only solution. They had no future together. It could only end in heartbreak, worse than what he was enduring now.

Even if...

"I love you, too," she whispered into the night, before shutting her own eyes to sleep.

The next morning Clint was not surprised to find himself alone in bed. He'd really expected no less. Natasha never stayed a whole night in his bed even at the worst of times. Checking the clock he was surprised to see he'd slept nearly six full hours, which explained why he felt so good. True, he probably could have used a few extra hours of sleep, but six was plenty to start with.

Getting to his feet, he stretched, and knew what he had to do next.

Clint made his way to the bathroom and stared at the shower stall as if it might somehow physically harm him. It was a ridiculous thought, but no one's fears were particularly rational. There was truth to the saying that the only thing to fear was fear itself, however those kinds of maxims were easier to say than believe. Especially less than forty-eight hours after one of Clint's worst fears had been repeatedly inflicted upon him and it was all very fresh in his mind.

Still, he knew that if he didn't do this now, he'd end up taking field showers for the rest of his life, which just wasn't a viable solution. Eventually, no matter how thorough he was, Clint would start to smell.

Turning on the facet, a move he almost immediately regretted, Clint turned his back on the steady stream of water and began to strip. That done, he waited, taking ragged but deep breaths in an effort to calm himself, and mentally counted to ten. After ten came twenty. Then thirty. When Clint reached two hundred and sixty he knew that particular technique was not working.

Telling himself he only had to go in for a minute, half a minute at the most, Clint forced himself to face the shower stall again.

If he could just get this first time over with, the next time would be easier. It was a process. He'd done it before. It was like ripping off a bandage; better to get on with it.

_"Mr. Barton,"_ Jarvis's voice came unexpectedly, just as Clint had taken his first step towards the water. _"Are you in need of assistance?"_

"Shit," Clint shouted, so startled he'd nearly slipped.

_"Should I send for help?"_

"What? No," Clint snapped. "What... What are you doing in here, Jarvis? We've had this talk about personal space, haven't we? This is a private area. The bathroom is off limits. Completely and always off limits. Right?"

_"Yes, sir. Normally the bathroom is off limits, as you like to say, but as we've discussed, there are certain protocols I am programmed to adhere to no matter the location."_

"Like watching me shower?"

_"Is that what you're doing, sir? Forgive me. Your heart rate was extremely elevated and your breathing irregular. I assumed you were in distress."_

"I am in distress because you're spying on me. Again."

_"Your heart rate was elevated before I spoke to you, sir."_

"I know it was," Clint admitted, shaking his head and wondering how the hell his life had come to this. He was scared of the shower and talking to an omnipresent AI. "I'm fine. I'm... If I need help, I'll ask for it. Okay, Jarvis?"

_"Of course, sir."_

"Can you get the hell out now?"

_"Right away, sir."_

"Christ," Clint sighed, and without really thinking, he stepped into the shower. It took half a minute for his brain to catch up to what his body had done, and initially he had panicked, but he stayed put. He washed as quickly as he could, and it may not have been the world's greatest job, but it was enough.

Out again, Clint dried off as fast as possible before retreating back into the bedroom and getting dressed. Before he left he made the bed and repacked his bag, leaving his newly acquired books on the dresser and his new suit hanging up in the closet, but packing the miniature bow and arrow set Tony had sent to him on the first day. There wasn't room in his bag for anything else and he assumed he might be back one day soon for the rest any way.

Clint found everyone still gathered out on the balcony enjoying a leisurely breakfast. He'd almost brought up how perverted Jarvis was, but realized that would only lead to a lot of questions he didn't want to answer about why the AI had showed up in the first place. Clint had discovered that Jarvis wasn't totally adverse to complaints and suggestions, and he figured it would be easier to have another conversation with Jarvis about boundaries than to bring it up with Tony.

"There he is," Tony said as soon as Clint joined them. "The man Pepper left me for."

"What?" Clint asked, momentarily confused while everyone around him seemed to be in on the joke.

"Sorry, buddy," Tony said, standing up and handing him the tablet he'd been reading. "I tried, but this time they didn't bother asking me to bid. Can't imagine why," he added dryly as Clint took a look at the latest pictures pulled up from some tabloid blog. Most of them were of him and Pepper, taken at various locations around town throughout the week. Some of them were even from the fundraiser the night before; those carefully omitted the fact that Tony had also been in attendance. The general idea of it was that Pepper had done the unthinkable and dumped Iron Man for a nobody. "They don't have anything on you, not even a name and... well, they aren't great shots but..."

Clint shrugged it off, knowing what the but was; they were clearly him. A few were blurry. A few were too far away for a positive ID, but anyone who did know Clint would know it was him.

"Fury see these yet?" he asked.

"He's not happy," Natasha answered, "but I think he expected it to happen sooner or later."

"I tried to have it stopped," Tony added.

"We might still be able to stop the newspaper tabloids from printing them," Pepper said, not because she cared, she'd been lied about before in the press, but because she knew it mattered to Clint.

Or it had.

"Don't bother," he said, waving them both off and handing the tablet back to Pepper in favor of a cup of coffee. "The more you tell them not to, the more they'll want to run them. And if they don't run those, they'll keep taking more."

"True words," Tony agreed happily. That had always been his approach.

"It's really okay?" Pepper asked.

"I'm going to have to get used to it," Clint answered. "To change, right? I mean... Please don't think I want to end up in the papers, I'd really rather not, but... What am I going to do about it? It happened. I imagine with Tony around, it's going to happen again so... People leave traces, right?"

"Right," Pepper agreed happily.

The plane ride back to New York was much louder than the trip to LA had been, owing exclusively to Tony, but everyone was in good spirits.

Everyone except Natasha.

As the day wore on, the more discontent she seemed to grow.

Bruce, Thor and Jane were all waiting to greet them, back at the Tower, and the first few hours in New York were spent talking, laughing, and eating; more or less just enjoying company. When everyone wound down and began to retreat to their own quarters, Clint was a little shocked to find Natasha trailing after him, but he didn't try and stop her.

"You're serious," she said as soon as the door had shut them inside his room.

"About..."

"You're really leaving SHIELD."

"Natasha, we've been talking about this for months."

"Yes, but..." she stammered, crossing her arms defensively to cover herself and her anxiety.

"You never thought I'd do it," he finished for her, brow furrowed in surprise.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because, frankly, you're a follower," Natasha said coolly. "I always assumed if I left or if..." she stumbled again, but they both heard Phil's name in their heads. "Sure, then you'd go. But you're really doing this. You're really going to leave." Clint had to turn his back on her and walk across the room.

It shouldn't have made him as mad as it did. Part of him knew she'd felt this way. That she hadn't believed him, not once, not really, when he said he'd go without her. That he wouldn't be capable of leaving. The sheer fact that he'd delayed it for so long kind of proved her point.

And truthfully, he had felt that way.

Before.

That didn't make the accusation sting any less.

"What finally convinced you?" he asked, finding his own reflection in the window easier to face than her at the moment.

"The photos."

"So, I tell you I'm tired of all the lying. I tell you I'm sick of having no say in things. I say I love you and I want us to be together... I tell near perfect strangers things I couldn't even admit to myself for years and... and this convinces you? That I stopped caring about who takes my picture?"

"It's a process."

"It's really not," he said, shaking his head and turning to face her again. Even if she was right, he had waivered, to hear her say it hurt. He already doubted himself; to have her doubt as well... "If you'd have told me you were leaving, I'd have believed you."

"But I didn't say that," she returned, and even though neither of them had raised their voices in the slightest, it was an argument. There was no getting around the fact that this was a fight. "And you've been saying these things for years. You've always complained."

"You think I've just been complaining? Letting off steam? What? What exactly? It wasn't like I was saying I was sick of the rat-infested hellholes the safe houses always end up being... I was telling you that I had serious questions about SHIELD. About what we do. About everything we are."

"Not we. You."

"Fine. Me. It was just about me, but I thought you understood that."

"I thought..." Natasha said, shaking her head and wanting him to understand but not able to make it happen. "Part of me knew you were serious..."

"Well, isn't that nice," Clint interjected bitterly.

"...but I never thought you'd do it. Not really. I was obviously wrong."

"Obviously."

"Clint..." she said, taking a step forward. Towards him and across the room.

Natasha didn't know what she was going to say next, but it turned out not to matter.

As far as Clint was concerned, she'd said enough.

"I don't really think we have anything more to say here."

"All right," she said with a gentle nod. "Just... promise me you'll be careful."

"So now I'm not only a follower, but a helpless one as well?"

"That's not what I mean," Natasha said, for once letting the hurt through her voice. "SHIELD does a lot for you. We've... You've made enemies out there. They've given you shelter and anonymity. That's going to be gone once you leave. They've protected you as much as you've protected them."

"But they never let me in. And they'll never let you in."

"I never wanted in," she argued. Clint stood there, his own arms folded the same way as hers were as he looked her in the eyes and nodded. He understood it as much as he ever would. It was more than she'd ever given him. Much more. And that was their problem. "All I ever wanted from them, they gave me. They still... I just want a safe place," she finished, defeated.

"And I thought I gave you that," he shrugged. Natasha dropped her eyes, unable to answer. "Why can't we just talk and listen to each other? When did this get so hard?"

"When you started wanting more," she admitted. "Clint, you want things I can't give you and I don't know how to deal with that."

"That's not true. I only want you. Just you."

"No," she said, shaking her head with a near scowl on her lips. "You want normal. You want a regular relationship; a wife and kids with a house and a picket fence. You want... you want more than I'll ever be capable of and you'll never be truly happy with less."

"What I want is for other people to stop telling me what I want," he said, his voice rising against despite his best efforts to keep it in check. "Or how I feel. Or how I should feel about what I want."

"And what about what I want?"

"Everything is about what you want," he fired back at her. "You need space, I give you space. You need someone to talk to, and I talk to you. I do everything you ask, as soon as you ask, and I've never asked for more."

"You've asked for more," she corrected.

"I've asked for acknowledgement. For something... for anything that tells me that I'm not just imagining all this between us. I have been there for you, with you, through some crazy shit, and I'd do it all again. Just the same, Tasha. Exactly the same, if that's how you wanted it. But... Yeah, maybe you are right," he said, winding down in defeat. "I need more. I need... I need you to go."

"What?"

"I can't do this halfway," he returned, shaking his head. "Just like I couldn't leave SHIELD halfway. You've been saying it now for years and you're right. I need time and I need space, away from you."

"This is... sudden," she stalled, not sure what to say. She had never expected him to follow through. "You want me to go?"

"No, I don't," he said, sounding exhausted. "I don't want... I'm not going to get what I want. What I need is for you to go. Not away from SHIELD or the Avengers or anywhere you want to be... as long as it's not around me. This," he said, motioning at the space between them, "it has to end. You've been very clear about where I stand with you, about how it's going to be, so... this is what I need it to be. You can't push me away with one hand and pull me closer with the other. I can't... I can't do it. I thought I could. I thought I was stronger than this but I'm not. You know I'm not."

Natasha didn't try to argue with him. Clint was right. She had been pushing him to cut her off now for weeks, if not longer, much longer. And it hurt, now that he was finally acting, but it would be better in the long run. He was dependant on her, as she was on him; but she was the only one enabling the situation. Clint didn't seek her out. Clint didn't tell her no and then promise a yes. He hadn't even kissed her before the other night. He'd never moved first, that was her, always her, until now.

Natasha realized that she never thought he would.

"I'll go," she said simply.

She really thought he'd try to stop her. Even then. Even after he'd sounded so certain and steady.

Maybe she'd wanted him to, but he didn't.

Clint watched her leave and stood there, still watching the door, for some time after it had shut.

It was for the best, he told himself. It had to be, even if it didn't feel that way. It was as if he'd cut out a piece of himself and thrown it away. Clint had to fight down the urge to chase her down, to fix it while he still could, but he couldn't let himself do that. If he crawled back now, he'd do it again and again, same as before and nothing would change between them.

He loved her. He wanted her. He couldn't have her.

That was the truth and it would take time before that truth stopped hurting, but in time...

Clint had done this before, he reasoned. Had cut ties and changed his life. More than enough, but he was hopeful that this was the last time. That this time would count for something more than all the reset combined.

He'd have to make it count.

He'd have to do it alone.

**The End**

* * *

**End Notes: **I kind of want to apologize here... The ending, it's abrupt, I know, but again... middle piece I swear. There will be more. I will resolve this in my own way. Hope you enjoyed it. Thanks again!


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